


Seeking Balance: An Inquisition Story

by AzureLightningEmeraldCloud



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: BAMF Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Blood Magic (Dragon Age), F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Canon Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Not Canon Compliant, Not Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC Compliant, Racism, Rite of Tranquility, Seeker Inquisitor, The Inquisitor is a Seeker of Truth, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Yasmin has a dark side she lets out on those she deems as monstrous, anti-chantry, but nothing graphic or described, i take liberties with seeker powers, i'm not making anyone tranquil in this fic, past rite of tranquility should be a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:56:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureLightningEmeraldCloud/pseuds/AzureLightningEmeraldCloud
Summary: Yasmin was a powerful young Rivaini Seeker of Truth who was banished from the order. A few years later, her former order, The Seekers of Truth and the Templars Annulled the Dairsmuid Circle; killing hundreds of innocent mages  down to the last child.A grieving Yasmin was given a mission by Justinia. She reported to the conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes to inform the Divine of the mission's success.Finding herself in the inner circle of the fledgling Second Inquisition, Yasmin will use her newfound power to change Thedas...and maybe fall in love along the way.All rights and characters belong to BioWare and EA. With the exception of Yasmin.





	1. Yasmin's Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we are introduced to Yasmin: a former Seeker and Cassandra's ex-apprentice.

The Seeker Inquisitor

One of the last things she remembered was their plea for mercy. Pleas that went mocked, and then ignored as her victims succumbed to her powers. They deserved it. They deserved so much more; agony that she was unequipped to inflict on them. Her unique brand of punishment would have to suffice.

Their blood was on their beds, and the stones on the ground. And it felt _good, and right_ to her. Their corpses were a sight that brought her immeasurable peace. But at the same time she was still as hollowed as the day she arrived in Dairsmuid. It was justice done; because these last guilty souls finally _understood _the horrors they had wrought.

And then there was just blankness, and the sensation of time passing.

Suddenly the world was mist and panic and the Woman standing just out of reach, wreathed in golden light, and offered hand shouting at her to do _something. _But what? She couldn’t remember.

So she wasn’t exactly surprised when she came back to consciousness that she was bound in chains. She didn’t open her eyes yet. She was surprised to realise two of the guards in the room were Templars. She could feel the lyrium like poison in their blood. But that didn’t make sense. If they knew who she was, they knew better than to have one of those so easily susceptible to her kind’s powers in the same room as her. Perhaps something else was going on here.

There was something else wrong. She felt it on her hand. It was _magic_, and powerful magic at that. It felt foreign, and dirty. She quashed her first instinct to relieve one of the Templars of their blades and cut her arm off, severing her from this pulsing, foul green gash on her hand. Almost in response to her thought, it flickered to life and she couldn’t help but let out a gasp of pain. It felt like molten steel was being poured _into _the muscles of her hand. It was worse than when she received the scars on her _other _arm that one time she was struck by lightning.

The door opposite her was barged open and all her guards immediately stood to attention and evacuated the room.

The woman in chains finally opened her eyes as she heard those unmistakable and angry footsteps…it had been a while. She coiled for violence, but deflated when her eyes came across the face of her former mentor.

“Cassandra?” she rasped in utter confusion.

Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast did a double take but steeled herself. “What happened? Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you right now, half-breed.”

_Kill me? I only murdered a few Templars here. Unless she found out about the deeply unholy task Justinia V asked of me… which I executed flawlessly…even if it took a couple years. But if that were true, then why would Cassandra be acting against the Devine? _

“Racial slurs already, Princess Cassie? I have a name, and you know it well. You’re either drunk or enraged. Maybe both? Is it even noon yet?” the prisoner couldn’t help but retort with venom. _Why does Cassie look at me like I’m the enemy?_

Cassandra made an aggressive move towards the prisoner but was halted in her step by a surprisingly sturdy Leliana.

“Don’t, Cassandra. We’ll need her.” Leliana said urgently. The prisoner’s eyes widened at the hooded Left Hand. If both of them were here, giving her their undivided attention? They reeked of fear, something that surprised the prisoner…something horrible had happened and she needed to find out _what_.

“What is this accursed _thing_? And what are you accusing me of, Teacher?” the bound woman spat out; done with the pleasantries.

“Need me for what? I’m your prisoner, yes?” the bound Seeker was very quickly losing her temper. Perhaps it was Cassandra’s influence over all those early years.

“It would be better to show you,” Cassandra said with pained resignation. “Leliana, go to the forward camp.”

“No. You brief the men, I’ll shepherd our wayward prisoner,” Leliana replied to the surprise of both Seekers. Noticing their surprise, Leliana followed up with, “You two obviously can’t be trusted not to come to blows right now. And expediency is the word of the hour.” She took a knife from her sleeve and cut the Prisoner’s bindings. Cassandra’s squawk of indignation was accompanied by the prisoner’s slightly pained grin.

“What is your name, prisoner? Cassandra tells me you’re a Seeker.” Leliana said with cold eyes.

“Firstly,” the prisoner said as she rose to her full height. “I haven’t been beholden to our _glorious _order for some years now, so I don’t know if ‘Seeker’ is the best ah, title for me. I’ve been following orders from Divine Justinia recently, so perhaps you can take my presence at the Conclave up with her.” Leliana admirably hid her flinch as Divine Justinia was mentioned. She was as tall as Cassandra, so of an even height of most men. She was human then…or perhaps _mostly _human considering Cassandra’s odd remark about her breeding. Her skin was was as dark as Josephine’s, so Leliana immediately assumed Rivaini or possibly Antivan heritage, though her accent was Starkhaven enough to mask her country of origin.

The prisoner’s features were pretty, though not without their flaws. Her thick ebony mane spilled just past her shoulder unrestrained at the back. Her eyes were large and did not match. One was inviting and brown, the other was emerald with a solid two thin rings of gold; one around her pupil and one between her iris and the white of her eye. Her nose was long and slightly curved, though there was a faded scar running across the bridge and spilling onto her cheek. There was another long scar from above her left eye to jaw. Though the dark samite cloth wrap she wore across her forehead obscured the rest of the scar as it journeyed toward her scalp. However, the thick line of scar tissue down her face skirted her eye, forming a neat crescent. It looked too clean to have been an accident. _Maybe she was tortured? A pretty girl like her would be quite the prize for some of the darker patrons of the Game, or any man with those leanings, _Leliana thought with revulsion and more than a flicker of horror from her own time in Raleigh’s dungeon. Shaking herself from her worst memory, Leliana observed that the prisoner’s larger scar was clearly newer than the one on her nose.

“You may call me Yasmin, Sister Leliana,” the prisoner–Yasmin spoke with a slight smile.

“Cassandra, we’ll meet you at the forward camp. Clear a path for us.” Leliana said as she cut the bindings on Yasmin’s wrists. Cassandra spared Yasmin a look that Leliana pegged between fear and anger, and then the elder Seeker quitted the dungeon. Leliana didn’t say it aloud, but she knew cutting the younger Seeker’s bindings was merely a formality. They both knew running away wasn’t a possibility, and likewise, such a simple binding would’ve been child’s play to escape.

“What has happened,” Yasmin asked Leliana point-blank once Cassandra had ventured forth from the dungeon. “Cassandra is a harsh woman, and an exacting mentor, but I’ve never seen her distraught like this before.”

With a heavy sigh Leliana said, “Cassandra was right when she said it is better to show you, I think.” Leliana held the door open courteously as they exited the dungeon. “Everything has changed,” she muttered.

They exited what Yasmin recognized now as the Haven chantry. For all of Yasmin’s earlier cockiness with Cassandra, she knew now why her former mentor was so incensed. There was a green gash in the sky, and from it rained green projectiles she couldn’t identify.

“What…” Yasmin breathed as her eyes welled up. “What of Divine Justinia? The Conclave?”

Leliana’s reply was short. “We call it the Breach. It’s been two days now.”

Yasmin didn’t question her further. As they walked through Haven, Yasmin couldn’t help but notice the tension in the air.

Leliana just shook her head in mourning as they walked through the small village once she noticed the animosity of the townspeople. Yasmin caught several of the dark looks people were unashamedly levelling at her. “Ignore them for now. They well not touch you while you walk with me. You should know however, that my agents killed no fewer than three would-be assassins while you recovered from your _ordeal_.” Leliana was blasé about it, but Yasmin shivered at being so _vulnerable_.

“You have my thanks then, Sister Nightingale,” Yasmin said with a seriousness she’d lacked until that point.

Once they’d exited the gates of Haven, it was a blur of snow until they crossed the first stone bridge. That was when the Mark acted up again, driving Yasmin to her knees, gasping in agony. When she recovered enough, she saw Leliana’s slightly concerned eyes on her. “No need to fret Sister; if there was one thing the Seekers of Truth taught us, it was how to handle _pain_.”

“Well, I doubt the Seekers trained you with the intention of killing you outright. Or perhaps they were mulling it over at the time; that Mark however, has already made up its mind about killing you. If we don’t get you to the Breach and something miraculous happens, you are not long for this world Seeker Yasmin.” Leliana’s words were as cold as they were true. Yasmin glanced down at the redheaded and couldn’t help but think Orlesians were supposed to be subtle. But then Divine Justinia did attract odd allies.

They were crossing the second bridge when a green rock the size of a house spilled from the Breach shattered it. In the tumble to the ground, Yasmin was able to orient herself around the slight Orlesian so that she was shielded from the crags and hard landing on the iced pond. “What the hell?” Yasmin groaned as she shakily rose to her feet, pulling Leliana with her.

Before either of them could do much more than exchange a harried look with the other; another green rock crashed into the pond they were standing on. Demons poured forth, two shades, and one Terror.

Luckily, Leliana’s bow and quiver remained miraculously intact, which the Left Hand made quick use of. Yasmin cast her eyes around for a weapon and surely enough; one of the dead soldiers had an old zweihander strapped to his back.

Dead man’s zweihander in _one_ hand, which gave Leliana a moment of pause, Yasmin turned to face the remaining demons with a feral smirk on her face.


	2. The Temple of Sacred Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our party arrives at the temple. They meet Charter too.

Chapter 2: The Temple of Sacred Ashes

The demons stood no chance against the two women. Once Yasmin got her hand on a blade, the fight was basically over. She carved through the demons approaching her with wicked abandon, and she only stopped once they had dissipated. She noticed the rest of their enemies were riddled with Leliana’s arrows. None of them had even gotten close to the redhead. “You fight good,” Yasmin said as they found their way back to the path.

“I fight _well_. I do not fight _goodness. _What is it with you Starkhaven folk and your poor grammar?” Leliana lilted with a certain amount of genuine Orlesian pride.

Yasmin didn’t take the bait to answer Leliana’s real question; instead she let out a laugh that was closer to a cackle. She adjusted the bandana on her head, it obscured her forehead, but it also poofed her hair up a little; making her bangs look even more voluminous. Leliana just shook her head slightly in resignation at the slightly grating sound. _Well, we can’t choose how we laugh I suppose_. “I wasn't born in Starkhaven, so your jab has missed me.” Leliana didn't think so, but she let Yasmin think so.

Leliana smiled inwardly, so that was _one _thing confirmed. Her spies would get back to her in a couple day’s time with more information on this _former _Seeker Yasmin. “You certainly sound like it,” Leliana pressed.

There were wisps that started attacking them, but were silenced from a distance with more of Leliana’s arrows. Instead of answering, Yasmin replied, “Same could be said of you and Ferelden, _Lady _Nightingale. Your Orlesian accent has slipped somewhat; you’ve doubtlessly spent nearly as much time in this country as I have in Starkhaven your accent to have changed from all that posh.”

Leliana’s briefly raised an eyebrow in surprise at Yasmin’s accuracy. The Orlesian’s accent _had _changed over the years. Even if it was just a little bit. Before she could reply however, they heard the tell tale sound of a skirmish.

There were around a dozen demons besieging a few scouts, an elven mage, and a dwarf with a wicked crossbow. But the thing that drew both women’s eyes was the small tear into the fade. A rift. “Cover me from here?” Yasmin asked as she ambled toward the melee with a spring in her step. Leliana rolled her eyes, but by the time she arrived at the fracas, Leliana had already downed a quarter of the remaining demons with her arrows.

Yasmin made quick work of the remainder of the demons. Their smoldering ruins smelt of sulphur and iron. Yasmin was looking at the pulsating rift when a hand clasped her arm and held it up to the rift. It was agony, and something else; though she couldn’t really concentrate on the physical pain radiating from the green gash in her hand when the mental _horror _pushed its way into her head. And then everything changed.

Yasmin looked at the tall elf who had grasped her hand. She jerked her hand away from him. Because it was from him that _so much _pain came from. Old pain, a barrage of images showing things that simply could not be bombarded her mind; all coming from this elf. The Fade, and the Waking world as one, and then she saw him sunder the world standing atop the ramparts of a castle shrouded in snowy mountains. She had seen so much in just a moment, all rooted in this one man’s _mistakes_. She didn’t realise she had cried out. Everyone was looking at her now. The elf in front of her was _not _what he seemed, and he was _dangerous_. But she didn’t know the whole situation, and if the flash of his greatest regret was anything to judge by, he was insanely powerful. _Though he struggled with a single rage demon…that doesn’t seem quite right. _Yasmin thought as she stumbled back and shook her head. “What was that? What did you do?” she ground out.

“I theorized that your mark could seal rifts; as whatever power punched through the Veil above us put that thing on your hand. The credit is yours, shemlen.” His accent was _strange_. Yasmin knew that Dalish elves had a particular lilt to their accent, and city elves took on the accents of the humans penning them in. But his voice was _assured _and _different enough_ that it broached her curiosity. Though she also saw him do something in that vision-like transfer of images that she wasn’t ready to deal with yet. If he did what she thought he did, then this elf’s very existence would shatter the Chantry’s teachings, _and _the Dalish legends.

“Thanks?” Yasmin replied measuredly. “That fucking hurt,” she muttered for a good measure, mostly for the others’ benefit than hers. Not that she needed to embellish much to cover her moment of _insight. _

“That’s done then? Good. I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever,” the dwarf said as he reloaded his unique crossbow that looked somehow _familiar _to Yasmin. “I’m Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tag-along,” he added as he raised an eyebrow at Leliana.

“Don’t look at me Messer Tethras, your quarrel lies with Seeker Pentaghast,” Leliana said with a small smirk.

“You didn’t exactly stop her and the other seekers from interrogating me,” Varric replied with an edge.

“And If I had been the one to interrogate you, you would’ve been begging for Cassandra’s tender mercies. As it is, your original purpose here is obviously rendered void. You’re free to go if you wish,” Leliana replied without missing a step.

“If only that were somehow comforting,” the dwarf replied with an eye roll. “I think I’ll stick around until this shit show is settled. Wouldn’t be able to look Sunshine, Daisy, or Hawke in the eyes if I left now.” Varric kicked a stone into the bushes before properly taking in Yasmin’s daunting appearance. “Huh, you look like Rivaini, if she was taller, darker, and scarier.”

“Do you make a habit out of calling people by their country’s name?” Yasmin replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Not really. It was either Rivaini or Pirate. And I didn’t want her to shank me. Sister Nightingale, already has a nickname. _That’s _‘Chuckles’. I’ll come up with one for you soon enough.” Varric replied casually as we made our way down the hill.

“If _proper _introductions are to be made, I’m Solas,” the mysterious elven mage said. Yasmin smirked at Chuckles’ obvious annoyance at his new moniker.

“I’m Yasmin.”

“That was descriptive,” Varric replied.

“I know, right?” Yasmin said with a smirk. “There’s more demons ahead, look alive,” she said as she quickened into a jog and lead them into their next encounter.

There were only a few, and they didn’t last long under the onslaught of blade, bolts, arrows, and being turned into ice. “Did you do it?” Varric couldn’t help but badger Yasmin further.

“I can’t remember; though I was working for Justinia before this mess. Even if she did something heinous enough for me to be inspired to murder her, I would never do it like this. Actually, I have no idea what could’ve cause an explosion like this. It makes the Kirkwall explosion look trite,” Yasmin answered with a shrug as they neared the forward camp.

That got their attention. “You were in Kirkwall?” Leliana asked.

“I thought you knew everything,” Yasmin replied. Leliana was not pleased. Yasmin elaborated in the hopes of mitigating Leliana’s piercing glare. “I was there on Justinia’s business, and not for very long. That’s all I’ll say about it for now.”

“You’re with the Chantry?” Solas asked, apparently intrigued.

“I’m not exactly Andrastian, but I also worked for Justinia. She was a great woman. Flawed, very much so, from my perspective, but I think most of the time she was a leader worth following. So I’ll let you make up your mind about whether or not I’m _with _the Chantry.” Yasmin replied as they got to the stone bridge. She missed Leliana’s titter at the mention of the late Divine’s flaws. “And a discussion later will probably sate the rest of your boiling curiosities. For now, we have work to do.”

One rift later, and they were on the bridge. Yasmin flexed her left hand; trying in vain to rid herself of the excruciating aftershocks of closing the rift. It didn’t work.

Cassandra was on the bridge dealing with a cleric Yasmin did not recognize. They were definitely exchanging heated words. Cassandra swept the inkwell he was using off of the table and over the edge of the bridge. Yasmin smiled at her former mentor with nostalgic glee. Somethings never changed, and Cassandra still had the temper of a hurricane.

“Chain her!” Roderick shouted at the incensed Seeker before him.

“You presume to give _me _orders? You’re a glorified cleric! A Beaurocrat!,” Cassandra shot back.

“A pretty poor one at that,” Leliana muttered under her breath. Yasmin, who was the only one standing beside her snorted in amusement.

The Chancellor continued to be asinine and Leliana and Cassandra convinced him to stop throwing his weight around. Yasmin lost interest in their conversation fairly quickly as she became mesmerized with the Breach. It looked dangerous, but also oddly beautiful? Yasmin wasn’t too comfortable with that sentiment, though it came unbidden and intrusively into her thoughts.

“Well?” Cassandra asked as Yasmin was brought back into the conversation.

“What?” Yasmin asked intelligently. Varric snickered and Solas rolled his eyes smugly.

“Maker preserve us,” Cassandra muttered. “The mountain path or charging up the hill? There are missing scouts on the mountain pass, though taking that route will certainly cost soldiers on the slopes.”

“And you’re asking the prisoner what to do? That’s odd.” Yasmin replied with more than a little genuine confusion. _If Cassie is legitimately asking for me to make the decision here, she must be far more shaken by this catastrophe than I originally accounted for_.

“You bare the mark, Yasmin. And it is killing you despite Solas’ aide in the last several days. Your time with us looks to be short. Therefore the decision is yours since we are at an impasse,” Leliana interceded.

Yasmin spared the elven mage a look. _He kept me alive? Wait. How the hell did he _know _how to even do that. None of the mages or apostates I’ve encountered could’ve so deftly navigated unknown magic like this_. “It appears a thanks is in order, Solas. Thanks for keeping me alive.”

“Well, you _are _the key to our salvation after all. It would’ve been foolish to let the mark consume your body,” Solas said blandly.

Yasmin nodded to him and then faced Cassandra again. “We’ll take the mountain path to try and find what befell the scouts. If we eventually retake this land, we’ll need to know about that route anyway; might as well sort it now. Though, if you go with the soldiers Cassandra, they might have a better chance at surviving. You’re a force of nature after all.”

Cassandra’s lips quirked into a small smile at the acknowledgment of her prowess, despite the situation.

“Let’s go then, yes?” Leliana said as she strode forward. Yasmin stooped to pick up a couple health potions from one of the nearby supply caches before following after the Left Hand.

The trek through the cold reminded Yasmin that she did indeed hate the Frostback Mountains. Or maybe not hate, but she was rightly peeved at the whips of wind that felt like they cut the flesh of her cheeks and ears every few seconds. Once they got to the corridor in the mountain, they cut through the few demons there. “We found the scouts, Sister,” Varric said morosely as they came upon three corpses.

“This isn’t all of them. There were several others,” Leliana said with an edge in her voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Fighting up ahead, and another rift,” Yasmin said as she broke into a run down the small decline to the fighting ahead at the edge of the woods.

Charter was not happy. She’d lost one of her closest agents in the pass, along with two others that Leliana had put on her team, and now there was a rift that spawned just when they were catching their breath. The moment the rift came into being, Charter knew they were done for if they couldn’t escape. Unfortunately, the rift had them pinned with their backs to a shattered wall; and behind that was a steep fall. For the moment, Charter and her people were just trying to survive the onslaught of demons from the rift and were inevitably nearing their doom. Just as the first wave of demons was dealt with, Charter was blindsided by a Terror demon that portalled itself beneath her feet and knock her on her back. The claws deflected off her blades for the most part, but one talon carved a thick red line from her eyebrow to her hairline. Blood spilled into her eye immediately, though she was more concerned with how everything had just became a blinding white pain as her skull rebounded off the snow-covered rock she landed on. One of her agents yelled her name, but he was occupied with the rage demon that was trying to melt its way through his sword. Charter couldn’t stop her reflexive shriek of panic as her daggers went spiralling out of her hands.

Two arrows sank into the Terror’s back, but it only slowed it a little. As the Terror raised its claws to render the rest of the elven scout’s face to meat, a sword sank itself into the demon’s back, protruding through its chest to the hilt.

The Terror screeched as it disintegrated, the great sword clattering to the ground at the scout’s feet. The elf looked up to see one of the prettiest humans she’d laid eyes on running up to her. “I’m glad my aim was true,” she breathed as she picked up the great sword that was longer than Charter was tall, with one hand, and pointed her other at the rift; causing it to implode and erase itself from existence. Her glowing green hand pulsed with light, and the woman was driven to her knees with an expression of agony on her face; she was visibly clenching her teeth to avoid screaming.

Charter was distracted from her saviour when a familiar voice reached her ringing ears. “Charter! Are you alright?” Sister Nightingale herself asked as she felled the last of the demons with her arrows.

“Lady Nightingale,” Charter bowed her head slightly in deference, “We lost Weaver, Tulip, and Badger. The rest of us have minor injuries.” Charter seemed to realise that she was indeed bleeding rather badly from her head.

“Here,” the giant woman said as she took a health potion off her belt and de-corked it, offering it to Charter. “You need it far more than I do right now.”

“Thank you. Ma’am.” Charter added the honorific, realising she really had no idea who this was. “You saved my life.” Charter gulped down the health potion, feeling the sting of both head wounds dull considerably. In addition, she wasn’t dizzy anymore.

“I’m just glad I got here in time to save you. I wish I had gotten here earlier,” Yasmin said with a grimace. She cut off one of the sleeves from her tunic at her shoulder and gently began wiping the still wet blood from Charter’s brow. “The potion won’t heal the whole thing, so you can use this as a bandage to staunch the bleeding for a bit. Just put a little bit of elfroot on it and tie it up like this, and you’ve got yourself a makeshift poultice.” Yasmin said as she finished her narration, tying the sleeve around her head. Charter was loathe to admit it, but she was a little star struck at this new woman paying so much attention to her. She only had to see the slight twitch of Leliana’s lip to know her boss would mercilessly tease her about this later; if there _was _a later.

“Now we match!” Yasmin proclaimed with a small smile; pointing at her own covered forehead. She and Charter would even now have a similar scar, though they were on the opposite eyes.

“We must press on, Yasmin,” Leliana broke in lightly. “Charter, are you well enough to follow us?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Charter cast a precursory glance to her remaining party and they all seemed alright enough to continue as well. She turned back to Leliana to give an affirmative nod.

It was only a few more minutes to the temple proper. “This is where you were found,” Leliana said with a sad sigh. The place she pointed to was non-descript, but everything around it was a shambles.

The smell reached them before they turned the curve in the path. Burned flesh. Yasmin swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and she noticed Varric and Solas had similar reactions. Charter and Leliana had hardened expressions, but they seemed mostly alright. Varric noticed that too. “How can you stand it?” he asked Charter, who was walking alongside him.

“I’m a city elf. Burning the corpses of my People butchered every time the shemlens feel like they want girls to rape or target practice along with those who protect them is common for us. This is no worse.” Charters voice was far more casual than it should’ve been and Yasmin flinched at her matter-of-fact tone. Nobody said anything after that as they walked among charred corpses on their knees until they heard a familiar voice.

“Archers, secure the perimeter!” Cassandra shouted from around the corner.

And sure enough, Seeker Pentaghast stood among her people, gazing up at the green tear in reality.

As Leliana and Yasmin’s party arrived, they too saw how far up the hole in the sky was. “I don’t say this often, but I might need to stand on a stool to get that,” Yasmin said as the mark on her hand flickered again. Varric chuckled at that.

“I believe you only need to seal this smaller rift here, and the Breach may close. It is the first, and the key.” Solas spoke up. Yasmin gave him a discerning look that Leliana, Varric, and Charter all caught. None of them knew exactly what to make of it. He knew too much. Leliana knew it, Yasmin knew it, Charter probably suspected, and Varric would know it if he wasn’t preoccupied with the eerie red glow coming from somewhere off to their right.

**“NOW IS THE HOUR OF OUR VICTORY. HOLD THE SACRIFICE STILL.”**

“What was that?” Yasmin asked looking around for the dark and oily voice that seemed to come from _everywhere_.

Nobody had a response. They caught up to Varric who was staring darkly at the massive red shards of lyrium jutting out from the ground. “It’s red lyrium Seeker. Don’t fucking touch it.”

“What’s it doing here?” Cassandra asked.

“I don’t know, but it shouldn’t be here. It’s evil,” Varric said a little too fast. Yasmin didn’t take him for the panicky sort, so this foreign substance must be truly terrifying. She’d take the dwarf’s word for it.

**“Someone, help me! Why are you doing this? You, of all people.”**

“That was Divine Justinia’s voice.” Cassandra gasped.

**“KEEP HER STILL,”** the main assailant’s voice echoed around the crater. Then there was the sound of a door smashing open.

**“Justinia? Unhand the Divine you monster.”**

Yasmin gasped at hearing her own voice. “That was your voice,” Leliana pointed out quietly.

“I agree, but I _can’t _remember this encounter.” Yasmin said frustrated. The Fade _bled _through and showed them all partial images/memory of the event. The monster was shrouded in darkness with glowing eyes. Yasmin was there too, a hard look on her face, she carried a sword and a shield marked with Templar insignia. So apparently Yasmin had gotten into the conclave under the guise of a Templar.

**“RUN WHILE YOU CAN, WARN THEM!” **The Divine was obviously shouting at Yasmin to save herself.

**“Slay the Templar,” **the _monster _ordered _someone_.

**“So, it’s treason then,” **memory-Yasmin smirked viciously as the fade rift began to sputter.

“Dor–the Divine called out to you,” Leliana looked at Yasmin in a new light.

“And you stepped up to defend her,” Cassandra finished the Bard’s thought.

Yasmin looked hard at Cassandra. “Of course I did. I may think much of what your Chantry does is morally repugnant, but Justinia was a good woman. Though I know how blindly you follow the will of you _Lord _Seeker,” Yasmin practically spat. “Besides, shortly before the war properly started, Justinia saw the writing on the wall and gave me a job which she only trusted _me _to do; which I only completed recently. I imagine that was why I sought out her presence here. The thing that bothers me is that I obviously recognized the people ordered to kill me; or at least their faction. According to all the clues past-me gave, it could’ve basically been anyone. Damn.”

“A mystery for another day,” Solas cut in rudely. Though he gave Yasmin a dark look. Probably because of her Templar armour in the images.

“I’m not a Templar, Solas. I wouldn’t want you thinking you healed your enemy,” Yasmin said with a dark smile.

Though it irked Leliana, she admitted that Solas had a point. They simply didn’t have time to ponder everything right now.

“This rift is closed, temporarily. You’ll need to open it, and then banish it properly. Though it’s likely we’ll have company,” Solas said. Again, he seemed to know _exactly_ how these rifts worked. Yasmin shook the thought away, she needed to focus on the task, not go questioning someone she quite possibly owed her life to.

“That means demons!” Cassandra shouted to her soldiers. “Leliana, join the other archers.

“No. I’ll fight with you and our…new friend.” Leliana said while addressing Yasmin. Yasmin smiled lightly at not being referred to as a prisoner anymore, at least by the scariest person there.

“Very well. Whenever you’re ready then…Yasmin.” Cassandra said softly. Yasmin clapped a strong hand on Cassandra’s shoulder before ripping open the rift with her other hand.

Of course it was a pride demon.

The only major injury suffered was when one of the soldiers lost a leg to the lightning whips. Luckily her would was cauterized. Yasmin disrupted the rift enough times to shatter the Pride Demon’s armour and Leliana and Solas finally struck the killing blows with a volley of fire and arrows going into its face and out the back of its now flaming skull. “Nice,” Yasmin grinned at the macabre combo.

She took Solas’ cue and raised her arm. She screamed as the power of the mark burned her down to her shoulder as the rift slammed shut and dissipated. Tendrils of green fade energy lanced up and down her arm as she struggled to stand, but Yasmin blacked out from the agony and knew no more.


	3. To Follow the Herald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald gains a couple loyal followers.

CHAPTER 3: To Follow the Herald

_A/N: I know that the game layout of haven’s chantry have the advisers sleeping on separate beds in the room to the right of the war room, but I added more rooms because the chantry could afford it and changed the layout of the place. Sorry if that’s disorienting to you. A note on the language in this chapter, for purposes of obscuring information, I have a conversation take place in Orlesian (French). I’m not a speaker of French and used translations. I hope they’re accurate. If you don’t feel like translating it, you’ll be in the same boat as the character(s) who don’t understand it either, so don’t worry. _

Despite her size, the newly dubbed Herald of Andraste was not actually too difficult to carry back to Haven. As quick stretcher was prepared; Cassandra and Leliana were the ones who carried her. Her pole-bearers in a way. The symbolism wasn’t lost on the more intelligent members of those who fought to stabilize the Breach. It was still there, but the sparkling green on Yasmin’s hand had noticeably halted and the Breach itself had entirely stopped spawning demons.

Once they were in Haven, Cassandra quickly had one of the housed prepared for Yasmin. It was one of the first houses inside the gates. Leliana took one look at it and decided it wasn’t secure enough. “Not secure enough? Is she still our prisoner then?” Cassandra asked as she, Cullen Rutherford, and Josephine Montilyet milled about the war table.

“No. I think she’s proven she truly means to help. Even if it was initially out of an instinct for self-preservation, we would _still _owe her a debt. When I say it’s not secure enough, I mean that it’s vulnerable to attack. My agents had already fended off multiple attacks when she was unconscious after the Breach had formed. I think we should keep her here in the Chantry, perhaps in one of our rooms?” Leliana phrased it like a question, but it really wasn’t and Cassandra knew that.

Cullen shrugged, “So who do you propose she room with? Not me, obviously. Rumours of the impropriety wouldn’t do us any good. Unliekly such rumours would arise if she shared with one of you.”

“That’s oddly considerate of you Cullen,” Josephine replied with a smile that was both slightly mocking and genuinely impressed at his foresight. Cullen just huffed and ran his hand through his hair.

“I was thinking Josephine. She has the largest bed, and her room though small, is deepest into the Chantry, therefore easy to post guards outside without drawing too much attention,” Leliana said.

“That’s alright with me,” Josephine shrugged.

Just then there was a knock at the door. A frantic one at that. Cullen was closest and pulled the door open for them.

“Charter, what is wrong?” Leliana asked once the elf was revealed.

“Soeur Nightingale, avec votre permission, j'aimerais déplacer le Herald dans un endroit plus sûr,” Charter said in fluent Orlesian. She obviously didn’t want Cullen to know what she was talking about. Cassandra and Josephine each spoke enough of Leliana’s adopted language that the tradecraft wasn’t meant to obscure meaning from them. Though, for all Cullen knew, Charter didn’t speak Common.

“Oh, qu'est-ce qui a motivé ça? Est-ce qu'elle va bien?” Leliana responded. She ignored the strange looks from the other women in the room, and the annoyed look Cullen levelled at her.

Charter nodded, but then added, “Elle a une autre marque que vous devez voir.”

Leliana raised her eyebrow at that. “Aide Lysette à la ramener ici. Placez-la sur le lit de Joséphine.”

Charter nodded and left the room. “Is anyone going to tell me what just happened?” Cullen asked with more than a little annoyance in his voice.

“The Herald will be brought to my bed.” Josephine replied as diplomatically as you like. “We need to make plans to expand our reach beyond this valley,” she added, changing the subject to something that Cullen would bite into. “Leliana, have your agents secured a basecamp in the Hinterlands yet?”

“Yes. Though they are not numerous enough to do much more than that. Giselle is rightly worried that the fighting will soon kill everyone caught in the middle.”

“We don’t have enough soldiers to send as a detachment and _also _maintain the garrison we’d need here to fend off an attack on Haven. Your scouts will have to step up,” Cullen growled.

“Mind your tone, Templar,” Leliana replied flatly. “I’m not a mage you can coerce, and you don’t have Meredith to protect you anymore.”

“Enough, you two!” Josephine headed off yet _another _pissing match between the two diametrically opposed colleagues.

“What of Roderick and the Chantry?” Cullen asked, pointedly turning away from Leliana to face their diplomat.

“The Chantry may need convincing, but I believe they might support us in time.” Josephine replied.

“The Chantry is in shambles with the Divine dead. And Roderick for all his bluster, _does _have an influential voice as one of the few remaining priests in his echelon,” Cassandra growled.

“He’ll either agree with us, or he won’t be welcome in Haven any longer,” Leliana replied matter-of-factly.   
“That will cause the Chantry to fear us more than they already do,” Cassandra pointed out.

Leliana shrugged, “We cannot control their fears, only our own.”

“While that’s all fine and dandy, what do we do about the Herald?” Cullen asked.

As if summoned by his words, Charter once again knocked on the door before entering. She gestured that the Herald was in Josephine’s room. A young and pale woman about Leliana’s height flanked Charter. “What was your name again, recruit?” Cullen asked of her.

“I’m Lysette, Commander. I was a Templar recruit, formerly of Kinloch hold on Lake Calenhad,” the Templar replied. She couldn’t be older than twenty-five, probably closer to twenty. She had her hair pulled into a neat ponytail, and her armour was of an Orlesian Chevalier rather than the traditional burning sword emblem that adorned traditional Templar armour.

Cullen and Leliana winced, which Josephine observed with great interest; but that could be explored later. “Sister Nightingale, Lysette knows as much as I on this matter, so I felt it prudent to ask her to remain. Though nobody else knows. Lysette made sure of it; which was quite deft thinking on her part. Not even Solas and Adan.”

“You speak Common after all, and you sound Ferelden,” Cullen said with a slight frown.

“Yes,” Charter replied with a nod before turning to Leliana once more.

“And you felt the need to keep me in the dark…why?” Cullen replied acidly.

“Because you’re a Templar,” Charter didn’t mince words.

“Why would that–,” Cullen responded with an affronted tone before Josephine cut him off.

“This argument gets us nowhere. What is it you want Charter?”

Charter seemed to balk for a moment being under the scrutiny of all four of the orchestrators of this operation. “I want Leliana and you to determine whether or not the Herald of Andraste’s secret is shared with the Templar and the Seeker. She obviously was hiding it for a reason, and I’d like it if her privacy was respected. But I also believe our diplomat and spymaster need to know. Commander Rutherford and Seeker Pentaghast are strictly military, and it wouldn’t affect them going forward with their duties.” Charter’s voice grew stronger as she reasoned her explanation.

“Such loyalty is commendable. Even if I find you frustrating,” Cassandra said with her signature scowl. “Why are you so loyal to her already? I didn’t take you for the most pious sort.”

Charter’s hand briefly drifted up to touch the sewn together gash on her forehead. “She saved my life, Seeker Pentaghast, and tended my injury when there were far more pressing concerns than my wellbeing. No shem–_human_ other than Sister Nightingale has showed me such unprompted kindness.”

Cassandra held Charter’s nervous but unflinching gaze for a moment before turning to her colleague. “Leliana, you trust Charter’s word on this?” Cassandra asked as she made her way over to the smaller table and picked up a rather large book with a very particular emblem emblazoned on the cover.

“Yes. Josie and I will discover this secret, and consult with the Herald when she wakes.”

Cullen had enough of this, “Templar, I’m ordering you to tell me, as your Commander.” Josephine gasped at his rudeness and Leliana glared daggers at the man, and Cassandra made her signature disgusted noise.

Lysette shifted uncomfortably while her face flitted through several different emotions before she steeled herself…she settled on anger. “No sir.”

“I have no use for a soldier who won’t obey me. Leave Haven, or suffer the consequences of insubordination,” Cullen ground out.

Before Lysette or anyone else had the chance to reply, there was a prolonged keen of agony coming from Josephine’s room. One thought grasped all of them at once: the Herald was under attack.


	4. Yasmin Didn't Expect the Thedasian Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin flexes her power a little. And the Inquisition begins.

CHAPTER 4: Yasmin Didn’t Expect the Thedasian Inquisition

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, everyone was out of the war room and ran up through the short corridor and towards those terrible screams.

Having a slight head start, it was Lysette who flung open the door to Josephine’s room: where she and Charter had placed the Herald on the bed. None of them were prepared to the sight that greeted them.

The Herald of Andraste stood tall, holding Chancellor Roderick by his throat with one hand in such a manner that his feet were inches off the ground. Her hair was slightly ruffled from sleep or from the confrontation, though her bandana was firmly in place.

Roderick was sputtering, his hands scraping at her arm. But it wasn’t the cleric who had screamed; nor was it Yasmin for that matter.

It was the two Templar guards that had been accompanying the Chancellor had brought with him from Val Royeaux to Haven. They had stopped screaming, and were now twitching on the ground, whimpering; being tortured still, by some invisible power.

Without missing a beat, Yasmin’s expression of contempt lessened somewhat as she inclined her head to acknowledge the group of people now crowded into the room. “Good morning, how are you today?” Yasmin asked with a dark grin at the newcomers.

“Release the Templars,” Cassandra asked.

Yasmin looked down at the Templars in agony on the ground and using the hand that was unoccupied, she sharply closed her fist in a vicious gesture. The Templars’ frenzied seizing reached a crescendo; and with a final jerk, they both stilled. All their movement stilled. Josephine, Charter, and Lysette gasped while Leliana just let out a heavy sigh. Cullen’s hand drifted to the hand and a half sword on his hip, and Cassandra just looked mutinous.

“How?…” Charter breathed.

“That’s not what I meant, and you fucking know it Yasmin,” Cassandra growled.

“Put Roderick down please,” Josephine beseeched softly; herself slightly sickened by the casual manner in which Yasmin had basically _executed_ Roderick’s guards.

“The Chantry will have you beheaded for this, maleficarum!,” Roderick spat out as Yasmin lowered him slightly so his feet were no longer kicking at air.

Yasmin let out a dark chuckle. “Blood mage? No. I’m not one of those, or an apostate, or even a mage for that matter. Guess again, priest.” Yasmin’s voice was deceptively calm. She was _still _holding most of his weight off of the ground by herself.

“You’re a Seeker of Truth.” Cullen breathed out. He had not in fact had any contact with Yasmin, and neither Cassandra nor Leliana saw fit to mention Yasmin’s former affiliation. Or perhaps they just forgot about it.

“Once upon a time, maybe. But that was years ago,” Yasmin spared a glance for the blond commander. “Today however, you ordered your Templars to kill me. Presumptuous of you, no? Does the woman who silenced the Breach not even deserve a trial in Val Royeax? What a shameful time we live in when the Chantry murders its saviours,” Yasmin drawled, tilting her head as a child would when asking a question with shamelessly false innocence.

“That’s what we were going to do,” Roderick said.

“Oh? I must’ve misheard you. I remember you telling _that _one,” Yasmin said as she nudged the nearest Templar corpse with her bare foot, “when he suggested you do exactly that, you said. ‘We can’t take the chance. She murdered our Most Holy. Your duty is clear Knight-Captain, kill the heretic.’ And like the fool he was, he raised his blade over my chest.” Yasmin recounted coldly. “So I destroyed them.”

Leliana watched this exchange with interest, the tension in her stance slowly receding. She’d never seen a Seeker _kill _someone with their powers like this before. Cassandra had incapacitated Templars, and a few apostates on Lyrium rushes, but this was so much darker. Even the hardened Bard had to admit it was unnervingly close to blood magic.

“Lies!” Roderick spat out.

Yasmin just rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Leliana. “The Breach…did I manage to close it? I don’t remember.”

“No. But it has stopped spreading. And no _new_ rifts have formed since then,” Leliana said with a small smile.

“Damn,” Yasmin huffed in disappointment. “I guess there’s still use for this then huh?” she asked about the softly green glowing gash on her left hand.

“Yes. There are multiple rifts being reported as far away as my scouts have managed to travel in the three days you’ve been…indisposed,” Leliana said calmly.

“Are we just going to ignore the fact our Herald of Andraste _murdered _two Templars?” Cullen asked.

Standing off to the side, Charter and Lysette both exchanged a look that said, ‘This shit is way above our pay grade.’

“Herald of who now?” Yasmin asked sharply. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Josephine found her voice as she tentatively explained, “After you emerged from the Fade, and then used the Mark on your hand to stabilize the Breach…well, people have begun to call you the Herald of Andraste. They believe you are…holy, for lack of a better word.”

Yasmin was just gaping at her, an expression that seemed out of place on her face. Cassandra would’ve found her apprentice’s shock hilarious if the situation they found themselves in wasn’t so combustible. In her shock, she released the Chancellor who capitalized on his newfound freedom to hurl more ire at her.

“There is nothing holy about you. When the Chantry hears about how you killed the Divine, there will be a reckoning.” Roderick persisted.

“Enough from you,” Cassandra said. “I do not believe the Herald is to blame for the Divine’s death or the destruction of the Conclave.”

“_Someone _was behind the blast at the Conclave. Perhaps it was someone the Divine did not expect. Perhaps they have allies that yet live,” Leliana levelled Roderick with a glare that nearly caused him to soil himself…more than he already had when Yasmin grabbed him.

“Me? You would accuse me of this atrocity?” Roderick gasped. For all his bluster and attempted murder, he was genuinely wounded by this accusation.

“You. And many others.” Leliana reiterated.

“But not this monster?” Roderick gestured at Yasmin, who was still having obvious difficulty with processing Josephine’s earlier words.

“When the Divine called out to her for aid, Yasmin rushed to her defence,” Cassandra pointed out.

“And the mark on her hand, coincidence?” Roderick ground out.

“The Breach in the Veil is still a threat, and the Mark on her hand remains our single hope for closing it.” Leliana replied with a reproachful look.

“That is not for you to decide,” Roderick shot back.

Cassandra watched the back and forth for a while now before realising what she was _still _holding in her hand. She had brought it with her in the rush from the War Room. It was almost like providence. “Do you know what this is?” her voice was cold steel. “It is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to _act_.” She brandished the tome so all could see what was happening.

Yasmin came back to her senses and sucked her breath in as she realized what Cassandra was talking about. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach. We will discover, pursue, and put to the sword those who destroyed the conclave and killed the Divine. And we will do so,” Cassandra took a short breath as she turned her burning gaze on Roderick. “We will do so without yours or the Chantry’s approval if necessary.”

Yasmin couldn’t help but shiver at the chills raising the hairs on her arm and the nape of her neck. This was how history was made.

Chancellor Roderick took this as his cue to get the fuck outta there, and nobody stopped him. Cassandra looked like someone took the wind out of her sails for a moment.

“Warriors of a holy war, Cassandra? Is that what we’ll become?” Yasmin asked.

Cassandra fixed her former apprentice with a glare, “You are, or _were _a Seeker of Truth. We can trace our order from mentor to apprentice in an unbroken line back to the first Inquisition. How is this much different?”

Yasmin seemed to consider a variety of replies before hissing and turning around to burry her face in her hands. Nobody was quite sure what to do now. Josephine tried to alieviate some of the Herald’s obvious distress. “Yasmin, Leliana wasn’t grandstanding to Roderick…much. You _are _our only hope at fixing the sky. Will you help us do that?” Josephine asked quietly. Yasmin seemed to deflate at that, so Josephine pressed her advantage. “I understand there are some _complicated _matters to get through, and soon. But we cannot do this without you.”

Yasmin turned around to look at them: the two women, barely more than girls: the young elf and the Orlesian chevalier-looking woman were standing aside looking nervous and out of place. Former Knight-Captain Rutherford and Sister Leliana, were both looking grim. The Antivan woman with her soft voice garbed in golden ruffles. Cassandra was giving her a look she hadn’t seen since she was a teenager and Cassandra presented her to Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves, her ready to begin her Vigil and become a Seeker of Truth at last. Despite everything that had just happened, what Yasmin had just done, Cassandra was looking at her with pride, and that was enough for her to say, “Alright then.”

She extended her arm as Cassandra mimicked her; they grasped each other’s forearms in the classic warrior’s embrace. After a moment they separated and Yasmin looked around the room. “If it’s not too presumptuous, may I have some proper introductions? Most of you are unfamiliar to me.”


	5. Abominations and Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin shows them what lies underneath her bandana, and a lengthy explanation is given. What does it mean to be a Seeker?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take some liberties with lore in this chapter. Also, I reference events leading up to DA:I, but I haven't read the books, only the wiki (sorry, I'll get to it eventually)

CHAPTER 5: Abominations and Explanations

“I’m Cullen Rutherford, former Knight-Captain in Kirkwall,” the tall blond man said with purpose. Yasmin regarded him without speaking. Just then there was a knock at the door.

It was a young man in recon armour. “Commander, Sir? Knight-Captain Rylen has arrived from Starkhaven and has some questions about his post he wants you to answer in person,” he said nervously as all eyes of the inner circle were on him as he delivered the message.

Cullen shrugged and shot a glance at Cassandra shrugged back at him. He turned back to the soldier “I’ll go take care of that then. It was good to meet you, Herald.” Yasmin no

“You already know me,” Cassandra shrugged. Yasmin gave her a small smile and lightly punched her shoulder.

“I’m Leliana. My work here constitutes, well…” Leliana paused as she tried to properly phrase her role for the Inquisition without sounding callous.

“She’s our spymaster, Yasmin.” Cassandra rolled her eyes at Leliana.

“Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra,” Leliana said wryly. She was pleased though, that Yasmin’s response was a grin.

“I’m Josephine Cherette Montilyet, former Ambassador from Antiva to Orlais. Currently, I’m the Inquisition’s chief diplomat. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mistress...Yasmin” the golden woman spoke up, meeting Yasmin’s gaze with a small smile. She stumbled perhaps uncharacteristically on the last bit, since Yasmin’s surname was unknown to her, as was her rank.

“Let’s move this downstairs, shall we? Leliana, have some of your people take care of these traitors, _quietly_,” Cassandra said, gesturing to the Templar corpses strewn on the floor. She flinched. What Yasmin did to them caused blood to flow from their ears, nose, mouth, and eyes. She was sure if she checked, she’d find blood down the two men’s trousers as well.

Yasmin reached up to touch her bandana, making sure it was in place, and let out a sigh of relief. Leliana noticed. “So, what is with that ugly thing? It’s a crime of fashion, really.” Yasmin rolled her eyes at the Sister.

Leliana’s bait was snatched when both Charter and Lysette, who stiffened. Yasmin noticed with a shrewd look. “Did you tell them?” Yasmin asked. The humour and warmth with which she addressed the others was gone; her demeanour had instantly become poised, as if she expected a fight.

Everyone tensed at the tone Yasmin took with Charter and Lysette. Her voice wasn’t loud. In fact, it was soft. “No, Ma’am,” Lysette spoke up first.

“But you saw what lies underneath, correct?” Yasmin asked as she made to change her clothes, completely shameless that there were others in the room with her. At least her back was turned.

“Yes,” Charter replied softly. “But…I’m confused,” the elf trailed off. Leliana couldn’t help but be _extremely _curious. Charter was normally much more professional. And Leliana had never once seen the mess of emotions in her protégé’s eyes that she had right now as she watched Yasmin pull on the set of new trousers Cassandra had donated to her. She unwound her breast wraps and thankfully Josephine had provided some replacements…fancier replacements that put hers to shame.

Yasmin nodded in gratitude as she re-wrapped her breasts. While she was doing so, she turned around to face everyone. She was decent; she had _some _sense of propriety. But they gasped all the same. Or at least Josephine and Charter did. Cassandra just looked sad.

Yasmin’s chest had at some point been torn apart. Her breasts weren’t malformed, but there were _deep _grooves of scar tissue that ran from her left shoulder and across her right breast. It looked to be that Yasmin ran afoul of a very large bear. Unaware of everyone’s staring, she picked up the white tunic lying there and put it on. Recovering herself from her momentary regret, Cassandra rolled her eyes and said, “No sense of propriety. You haven’t changed at all.”

It was obviously meant as a wry joke, but Yasmin’s returning smile was almost tragic. “Oh Cassie, if only that were true.” Cassandra’s eyes widened as she realised the truth of Yasmin’s words. When Yasmin left her tutelage, she was a teenager. Now, she was somewhere around twenty-five years old. Cassandra felt a pang of regret that her work for Most Holy kept her from checking in on her favourite protégé.

Leliana looked around and decided she had enough. “All of you, War Room, now. We are discussing, whatever _this,_” she gestured between Yasmin, Charter, and Lysette, “Is about. But I’d like to ensure we aren’t overheard.” With that, they all quickly followed the hooded spymaster.

Josephine turned to Yasmin and said, “I’ve set aside a budget for you to outfit yourself at our armourer; and acquire a new weapon. It wouldn’t do if our Herald died from a stray arrow that went through _that,_” she gestured at Yasmin’s simple shirt.

“Thank you, Ambassador Montilyet,” Yasmin said as she looked down at the Antivan woman. “Everything I had brought with me was undoubtedly detoured with the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I appreciate your generosity.”

“You’re welcome. It was quite simple actually.” Josephine said with a smile.

“Yasmin, how does the Mark feel,” Cassandra broke in.

Yasmin flexed her hand and replied, “I’m not holding in screams anymore. It’s strange. Not exactly painful, but it’s always on my mind.”

“Well, that’s an improvement at least,” Lysette commented from behind them.

Yasmin fully turned around though kept pace walking backwards, a feat, which startled thee others. “Yes. Are you a Chevalier?”

“No. I’m–was a Templar recruit. I suppose I still am a Templar, since I trained years for it. But now, I’m just sticking with the people who dragged me out of the debris,” Lysette confessed. Yasmin tilted her head in curiosity as she evaluated the slightly shorter woman.

“There’s no Lyrium in your blood. Are you in danger?” Yasmin asked with a frown.

“No. I was not taking Lyrium for longer than a couple weeks before the supply lines were totally disrupted. So I’ve already gone through the ah, withdrawal. It seems despite the chaos all around me, I was fortunate.”

They reached the War Room. Once they were all in, Leliana shut the door.

“Do you intend to start taking it again?” Yasmin asked neutrally.

The young Orlesian woman’s reply was as quick as it was firm, “Not a chance, Herald. I don’t…I don’t think I can stop taking again if I start. And I’ve seen what Lyrium withdrawal did to some of my group on the journey to the Conclave…it’s horrible.”

Yasmin regarded Lysette with a raised eyebrow, but ultimately nodded and to everyone’s surprise, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Would that more were as wise as you.”

Once Leliana shut the door, she barred it so none could interrupt them. Cassandra raised an eyebrow at her colleague and asked, “Shouldn’t we wait for Cullen?”

“I don’t see why that’s strictly necessary,” Leliana said casually.

“He’s the commander of our forces,” Cassandra pointed out stubbornly.

“Why?” Yasmin practically hissed.

Cassandra glared at Yasmin before responding, “Because I brought him here for it. “

Yasmin looked at her mentor with genuine confusion, and to Cassandra’s surprise, hurt. “Do you have any _idea _what the Templars were responsible for in Kirkwall?” Cassandra was going to reply but Yasmin cut her off, “I’m going to assume you didn’t look into it. That you don’t know. Because if you know, and you brought Meredith Stannard’s second in command along anyway, then…” Yasmin didn’t finish that sentence, but she backed away from the table hands splayed out in an incomplete gesture and turned around for a moment.

Cassandra didn’t know what to say. She looked to Leliana, but her quieter colleague was looking at the table. Cassandra’s jaw clenched, she knew Leliana disliked Cullen. But she didn’t fight Cassandra too hard on it after she had already gotten Cullen to commit to the Inquisition. “What are you insinuating?” Cassandra asked.

Yasmin turned around and glared at her. There was something dark in her eyes, something that Cassandra had never seen on the face of the teenage Yasmin she knew. For some reason, with so much happening at once, Cassandra didn’t properly process that Yasmin’s eyes were different until now. They both used to be a deep brown. But now, one of them was _changed_. It was green with unnatural circles of gold framing her iris. “I’ll show you later,” Yasmin promised darkly. Before the tension between them could build too much, she continued, “You’ll find out eventually, and since those two meddlers already know, they can stay. As the spymaster, you’ll just find out later if I don’t tell you. And as our chief negotiator and diplomat, you’ll need to know as well. Cassandra doesn’t _need _to know, exactly, but she _should_.”

“And Cullen?” Leliana asked. She wasn’t asking that he be let in on the secret. It was already clear Yasmin detested

“No. He has no right, nor is it crucial to his job,” Yasmin said curtly. “May I have your solemn oaths to never reveal what I’m about to show you?”

“Yes.”

“Of course!”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Yes, Herald,”

“You know I would never betray you, right?” Cassandra asks with sadness in her voice.

Yasmin walks around the table to stand in front of the woman who taught her how to fight. “I know, Cassie.”

Josephine’s eyes go wide with mirth at the nickname, though thankfully she manages not to make a sound.

“Cassandra, do you know what seekers _are_?” Yasmin starts hesitantly. Cassandra raised an eyebrow in askance.

“Until this war, we were the check on the Templars’ power, answering only to the Divine,” Cassandra said. It was a phrase she had doubtlessly said many times, and it showed.

“That’s what we were supposed to _do._” Yasmin sighed as she ran her hands through her hair. She got her right hand stuck in a tangle and made a displeased face. But she then paced back and forth for a moment before speaking again. She had everyone’s undivided attention. “I don’t know the whole truth, just what I experienced. I assume the whole truth lies with Lucius Corin and the Book of Secrets.”

“What are you talking about?” Cassandra asked.

“Herald, is this information you should be sharing with us? Isn’t it Seeker knowledge?” Lysette asked nervously. Yasmin spared a moment to think on the young Templar’s fears.

“There won’t be any reprisals Lysette, so long as you keep my secret,” Yasmin said. Though she thought about it and said, “Actually, Leliana probably knows something about it already.”

“I do?” Leliana asked.

Yasmin nodded, “Years ago, Divine Justinia became fascinated by the Rite of Tranquility, and commissioned a Tranquil called Pharamond to research it in Adamant Fortress, which overlooks the Abyssal Rift. The Veil is paper-thin there.” Yasmin took a breath before continuing, “He succeeded.”

“Didn’t everyone there die?” Cassandra pointed out.

“Yes. Because Tranquil were thought to be unpossessable. So they weren’t prepared when he, a Tranquil for many years, was possessed by a Demon and drawn into the Fade. First Enchanter Wynne and couple others were able to save him. But before he could be brought before Justinia, Lord Seeker Lambert had him assassinated, and Wynne’s son framed. And everything sort of kicked off from there.” Yasmin took a breath.

“Do you know what the Vigil of Seekers is? Like, I know you went through it, but do you know what it actually is?” Yasmin asked.

Cassaandra was beginning to feel uncomfortable. “No. That’s. What you’re insinuating is impossible,” she said weakly.

“Tell me Cassie. Do you dream?” Yasmin asked. Lysette gasped. Charter looked almost sick. Leliana’s mask of aloofness slipped for a moment to show shock, and Josephine had tears in her eyes.

They stood in silence as Cassandra and everyone else processed Yasmin’s implication. Everybody knew that the only two groups who don’t dream were Dwarves and Tranquil. Oh.

Yasmin took off her bandana slowly, letting her dark hair fall into her face. She placed it on the table. Slowly, she raised her head and pulled back her hair.

There were a couple choked gasps. The brand was perhaps a little higher on her head than most, but it was still instantly recognizable. Yasmin’s forehead bore the Sunburst brand of the Tranquil.

“But. You have _feelings_,” Josephine pointed out desperately.

“You’re right, I do. But there was a time when I just didn’t,” Yasmin said darkly. “I’m not going to explain to you right now the horror of living in Tranquility is. Perhaps later when I know you all better, and we aren’t dead.” Yasmin said with a dark smile.

Former Seeker Yasmin looked at Cassandra as she said the next part. “I remember. When my Vigil went _wrong._ They didn’t know what to do with me. I was only supposed to be tranquil for _minutes. _Instead, after the fourth day, they gave up trying to _fix _me. The now Lord Seeker Lucius argued I should be killed; that it was both a mercy, and that it would compromise our secrets. And if there wasn’t a cure, I’d rather be dead than Tranquil without hope of having my _soul _returned to me. Ironically, it was Lord Seeker Lambert that saved me with his plan. It would be odd, you see, if there was a Tranquil without a Lyrium brand. So me branded with Lyrium, and shipped me off to the Dairsmuid Circle in Rivain. I looked Rivaini enough that it wouldn’t raise any questions if a new Tranquil was transferred there.

They had me researching weapon innovation. Odd. But they knew how good I was before the Rite. So it made sense if my Tranquil self researched something that I was already interested in. I met my best friend there, a beautiful Dwarven girl named Dagna, she was different too.” Yasmin paused as she remembered the romantic liaisons she’d had with the tiny genius after she was Tranquil no more.

“But how are you…you?” Cassandra asked. “And how do I not _remember _being Tranquil if it happened to me?”

Yasmin looked at Cassie and replied with a small smile, “Rivain’s Circle was different. They could actually talk to spirits, summon them even. The Rivaini only had a Circle in Dairsmuid to stop the Chantry from proclaiming an Exalted march to ‘save the souls of the savages in the north’. Summoning peaceful spirits meant acquiring knowledge, and stories. Making friends even.” Cassandra began to look wary.

“I was in Dairsmuid for almost a year. They were all alive then. This was soon after the Blight, less than a couple years. The Hero of Ferelden was still Warden Commander. One day, I was sent into the woods to bring firewood or something. It was some menial chore one of the apprentices made me do because they were lazy.

In the forest, I met her; the spirit, _my _spirit. Her name is Empathy.” Yasmin’s voice went from sombre to something approaching reverent, or even romantic. “I was attacked by a great bear that I later found out had gotten out of some eccentric lord’s enclosure. Being Tranquil, I had no defence, no survival instincts. I just watched as it lumbered toward me and batted me into a tree several metres away. My chest was…crushed, mostly. Its claws had literally torn my heart asunder. I was dead.” Yasmin said softly.

“That’s not possible,” Charter said. For an unshakable agent of the Nightingale, Charter was looking pretty disturbed.

“Not necessarily so,” Leliana said. “There was a great woman I knew. You mentioned her earlier, Wynne. She confided in me once, that she did not in fact survive Uldred’s rebellion in the Circle on the shore of Lake Calenhad, when we arrived there with the Warden. She said a spirit of Faith had come to her, resurrected her, and resided inside her. It had been several years by that point,” Leliana was uncharacteristically vulnerable as she talked about her deceased friend.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know her, but from what I knew _of _her, she must’ve been someone special,” Yasmin said softly. “So, yes. I died. Like Wynne. Though it wasn’t a spirit of Faith that found me. Even when I was preparing for the Vigil I always struggled with the religious aspect of it all. Sorry Cassie,” Yasmin added with a sad smile.

Cassandra just waved her hand, “You think I did not know about your less than zealous study of the Chant of Light? Please. I know–knew you better than that. I suppose that explains why your eye is _odd_,” Cassandra almost muttered to herself. Yasmin nodded at that.

Cassandra looked like she was seriously struggling to ask her next question. “Are you an abomination?”

“Technically, yes.” Yasmin shrugged. “But so was First Enchanter Wynne. Name a more dedicated and loyal mage than her. I’ll wait.” Cassandra did not rise to the bait, but she shot a look at Leliana, who was looking right back at her reproachfully. “But the _point _is, when Empathy entered me, she healed my body as best she could. And then she touched my mind, and I was Tranquil no more, and more than that, I rose from that fatal blow with powers unrivalled among the Seeker order. I climbed onto the back of that bear and snapped its neck. Empathy and I have been ah, _together _ever since. I call her Emma. And she calls me meat suit…but only when I do something really stupid,” Yasmin tried and mostly failed to joke.

Cassandra took a few deep breaths before walking slowly around the table to approach Yasmin. Lysette and Charter both instinctively stepped forward, but Yasmin softly gestured them to hold back. She’d talk to them later about that protective reflex because she didn’t hate it.

Cassie stood before Yasmin, looking the girl she once knew, had helped mold into a perfect warrior. Yasmin was now an abomination, a disenchanted Seeker, and quite possibly the Herald of Andraste. Yasmin was looking back into her forme mentor’s eyes and couldn’t help but fidget a little in nervousness. The tension broke when Cassandra encircled her arms around Yasmin and pulled her into a crushing embrace. Yasmin wasn’t sure what to do except lightly pat Cassie’s back. She shot a confused look at Leliana over Cassie’s shoulder, but the spymaster was just smiling at them.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you went through that. I wasn’t there when you needed me to be,” Cassandra whispered emotionally.

Yasmin couldn’t help but tear up a little at Cassandra’s extremely rare burst of compassion. “You couldn’t have known. Even if you inquired after me, you would’ve been led astray by your superiors. Cassie, I really want you to hear me say this, so there’s no room for doubt. You’re with me every time I pick up a weapon, every time I walk out of a fight, every time I get drunk,” Yasmin added with a small laugh, recalling that one time Cassandra took her to a pub for the first time to celebrate the conclusion of her training. “Every time I find myself alright, and alive after picking up a weapon, you’re walking there right beside me. So please learn to forgive yourself for things you are in no way responsible for.” Yasmin couldn’t help the couple tears that fell down her cheeks.

She could see Josephine with her hand over her mouth, clearly _living for _the drama, but in a good way. She couldn’t see Charter or Lysette, but she could hear a solitary sniffle she _thought _was Charter, though she couldn’t be sure.

“Cassie, that was almost ten years ago now. I’ve been with Emma inside me for as long as I trained with you. And now we all have a sky to fix, so we’re going to fucking do it, together this time.” Yasmin said with a smile.

Cassandra nodded and took a deep shuddering breath and pulled back. Leliana tilted her head and couldn’t help but think it was best they get all the potential trauma out in the open now rather than later. “How did you get that scar on your eye?”

Yasmin looked bewildered for a moment, and then to Leliana’s surprise, she smiled. “Oh, this?” Yasmin asked with a smirk, “I lost a sparring match, badly, to Warden Kallian Tabris a couple years ago.”

Yasmin’s peals of laughter echoed around the room as Leliana’s jaw dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT??? I RESPOND TO THEM.   
I'd really like to know what you think of the path I'm going down with Yasmin here. I've never seen anything like this on this site, so I'm curious to know what you all think about her situation regarding tranquillity.


	6. The Divine's Mandate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin tells the inner circle what Divine Justinia V asked her to do.

CHAPTER 6: The Divine’s Mandate

Things calmed down somewhat after that heavy conversation. Yasmin promised to tell Leliana more about how the spymaster’s beloved had marred her face, but not today. Just before she left the room however, Josephine called out, “Wait. I’m afraid there’s another matter that you brought up that I think it would be prudent for us to know. You mentioned you were still in the service of the Divine, but you completed your _mission. _What did Most Holy ask you to do?”

Yasmin’s eyes flitted between Cassandra, Leliana, and Lysette; the most faithful in the room. Yasmin put her bandana back on her head, covering her mark of Tranquillity. “The Divine never simply asks _anything. _Isn’t that right, Leliana?” Yasmin smiled sadly at the once bright-eyed hero of the Fifth Blight. Everyone looked slightly uncomfortable. Leliana looked away before her mask broke, and Yasmin didn’t press her on it. She turned back to Josephine and replied, “Justinia’s mission is actually something Cullen should hear as well, if for no other reason than I want to see his face when I tell him what Most Holy ordered an estranged Seeker of all things to do. I will say that she first offered the task to the Hero of Ferelden, but she declined. Most Holy wasn’t too pleased about that, but when Kallian explained, Justinia realised there would be no convincing the stubborn Warden otherwise.”

“Well that wasn’t cryptic at all,” Cassandra pointed out sarcastically.

Leliana was deep in thought; this _girl _knew her love? How? And apparently well enough for Kallian to spare with her. Or maybe they were adversaries? “And how was Kallian the last time you parted?” Leliana’s voice didn’t tremble, but the intent of her question wasn’t lost on Yasmin.

“She was…optimistic. We didn’t travel together for long, but after she apologized for doing _this _to me,” Yasmin motioned to the prolific scar on her face, “She set off following a lead she believed would swiftly lead her to the answers she sought. From what I gathered, optimism wasn’t a common look on her.” Yasmin paused before adding, “When I first met her, she seemed sad, actually. And I get the feeling that it had settled deep into her, that sadness. I thought she was grieving a death of a loved one, but when I asked her…” Yasmin trailed off for a moment before fixing Leliana with a look. “She said that she had been parted from her one great love, her words, and that she was nearing the end of that journey.”

“It’s a sad state of affairs when _I’m _the optimistic one,” Leliana chuckled darkly as she looked away.

Cassandra just shot Leliana a look that said, ‘Damn that’s dark, if _you’re _the optimist in the relationship.’

“Why did she…” Lysette asked quietly, gesturing to Yasmin’s face.

Yasmin opened her mouth, but then closed it. “That’s something I’d like to discuss alone with Sister Leliana, actually.”

There was a knock at the door. There was garbled speech coming through it, though nobody could make out who was speaking and what was being said. It was probably Cullen though.

It was. He stepped in after Josephine went to unlock it for him once she saw neither Yasmin or Leliana budging. She sent a scowl at Leliana, who shrugged unrepentantly. Cassandra just made a disgusted noise at their rudeness. Yasmin couldn’t help but grin at the familiar sound that was a kind reminder of her childhood.

“I trust Knight-Captain Rylen has been assigned his post?” Josephine spoke up promptly.

“He has.” Cullen paused at seeing Charter and Lysette still in the room. “I hope I didn’t miss anything interesting,” he said with a wry grin. He dutifully closed the door when neither trespasser (in his eyes) was asked to leave. He was smart enough to not pick that fight, and he figured if Cassandra didn’t object, it was probably fine.

Before anyone’s facial expressions could give away the fact that _very _interesting things were discussed without the former Templar, Yasmin spoke up, “To the contrary, I was about to disclose the mission that Most Holy had tasked me with near the beginning of this war.”

Cullen regarded Yasmin with some suspicion, but was admittedly fascinated by what she had yet to say as well. “Very well Herald. Let’s hear it.”

Yasmin gave a very cat-like stretch for what the women saw as dramatic effect. She put both hands on the table and made eye contact with Leliana, Cassandra, and Cullen before saying, “Has it occurred to you as strange that this war has gone on as long as it has?”

Leliana rolled her eyes as she thought about it. She had an inkling where this was headed after all. “Get to the point, Herald. Are you truly going to make us guess?”

Yasmin shamelessly ignored the Bard and pointedly looked at Cullen and Cassandra. When neither of them spoke up, Yasmin was about to continue when Lysette spoke up hesitantly, “The Templars should’ve had a massive advantage. There are more of us–of them.”

“Correct,” Yasmin said triumphantly. “But they have an even greater advantage than that. An unfair one, the Divine believed. Leliana, Cassandra, how long ago did the Divine inform you both that she had an Inquisition planned?”

Cassandra spoke up, “Before the catastrophe at the White Spire, before even Kirkwall. I initially thought it was to be an Exalted March on the Qunari who had occupied Kirkwall. Or perhaps even marching on Par Vollen to perhaps force them out of Kirkwall. But it wasn’t.”

Leliana nodded along with Cassandra’s words and added her own, “The truth we later found out was that she had been making inquiries of the Circles of Magi, and her findings reported directly to her by the Grand Clerics greatly troubled her. She foresaw there would be an open war of some kind between the Magi and the Templars.”

Yasmin nodded with a pensive look on her face. “She really was an incredibly shrewd woman when she needed to be. I always marvelled at her ability to also be kind to the lowest of us when I knew she could also be so cold when the occasion called for it.”

Cassandra shot her a look telling her to tread carefully when talking about the dead Divine. Yasmin inclined her head in acknowledgement. She was cheeky sometimes, but she didn’t mean to press her fingers into Cassandra’s open wounds on this matter either. “True. I had been making a name for myself. Officially, I was still part of the Order of Seekers, but in reality, Lord Seeker Lambert just stopped trying to silence me.”

Cassandra gasped. “He…he tried to have you killed? But you were one of us? Why was he not delighted that you eventually completed the Vigil?”

“I didn’t complete the Vigil. Not exactly. And it wasn’t just the botched ritual and being shipped off to Rivain. Due to my unique circumstances, I have some strange powers I don’t believe other Seekers do. So from the Seekers he sent to bring my head back to him, I was able to sense something: the touch of _one_ spirit. I was only able two question a few of them though. But the _feeling _I got from all of them, and you, was the same. Exactly one spirit. I believe it was a spirit of Faith. The _same _spirit of Faith that I believe resides now inside former Knight-Captain Evangeline de Brassard. That may actually be a leap in logic, but as far as I know, there have been no more Seekers since my generation in 9:30 Dragon.” Yasmin paused for a moment. “Actually, _have _there been new Seekers made since then? I admit I’ve not been in the best position to know.” Yasmin turned to Cassandra with genuine curiosity.

“What you say is correct. As far as I know, there have been no new Seekers initiated since the Fifth Blight. I must ask…how many did you–how many did the Lord Seeker send after you?” Cassandra managed to ask as tactfully as she was able.

“Seven. The first one nearly killed me. His name was Trevelyan; tall, brown hair, and a face that looked like it had seen better days. He was older than Lambert, I think. I didn’t expect him, and I paid for it,” Yasmin said as she tapped the scar tissue running from the bridge of her nose across her cheek nearly to her earlobe. “I’m sorry if I’ve slain some of your friends, but I hope you understand I had no choice other than to survive,” Yasmin said not unkindly.

Cassandra nodded in resignation. “Trevelyan was particularly good at stealth. Something he tried to teach me when I was a young…he was disappointed.” Leliana couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“I can’t imagine why,” Leliana smirked. Cassandra just rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, after I sent the seventh’s head to the White Spire, they stopped coming after me. That was years ago. And since then, I had been doing the job we all _should _have been doing.”

“And what was that, exactly,” Cullen asked tersely. Yasmin knew she didn’t make him view her in any higher regard now he knew she was a Seeker slayer as well as a Templar killer.

Yasmin leered at him and looked about to reply with something that may just provoke him into drawing his blade when Josephine spoke up pre-emptively, “I believe you had a point you were getting to, Herald.”

Yasmin turned her gaze from Cullen and focused on the shorter woman. She didn’t meet Josephine’s eyes for long. There was just something about the _disappointed_ in the Antivan’s eyes that made something primal inside Yasmin squirm in _shame_. Leliana noticed this and hid a smirk of her own. She’d made it a life mission of hers not to _disappoint _the short Ambassador. Josephine leveled the same look at Cullen, who was as easily cowed as Yasmin.

Charter and Lysette looked on with some sense of profound respect for the tiny golden woman. It wasn’t until that point that Charter realized exactly _why _Leliana had gone so far out of her way to recruit Josephine Montilyet; she could end wars with a _glance_.

Yasmin cleared her throat and said, “Yes, Lady Montilyet, you are correct. It wasn’t too long before the Mages voted for independence when The Divine herself reached out to me. I was curious. At first, I thought it a ploy by the Lord Seeker, but upon my arrival in Val Royeaux I shed my skepticism. She met me personally. I admit I was humbled by that.”

Leliana was frantically trying to think of _when _this had happened and _why _she didn’t know about it. Why did Most Holy subvert her Left Hand’s intelligence network?

Yasmin continued with a more subdued tone, “She knew that I had been exacting harsh judgement upon the Templars I found guilty, unlike every other Seeker, who gleefully prosecuted the Mages instead.”

“I resent that statement,” Cassandra broke in.

Yasmin held up a hand in acknowledgement, “Alright, all of them _except you _were gleeful about it. But even you must admit you are firmly aligned with the Templar’s ideology, even now, and were lenient when your fist should’ve been made of iron.”

“I do not believe in this war, Yasmin. If it has slipped your attention, I _refused _the recall to lead the Templars into war on the Mages and was branded a traitor for it.”

Yasmin looked like she was going to say something else but Leliana cut her off, “You’re chasing the nug while ignoring the ram. Get to your point Herald.” Yasmin swallowed whatever she was about to say to Cassandra with visible effort before regaining her composure.

“That was unworthy of me,” Yasmin grit out at Cassandra, who to her credit gave a grunt accepting Yasmin’s bare bones apology. “The Divine had heard about a Seeker who did not show mercy to the Templars who did not earn it. And she reached out to me. But the magnitude of what she asked of me was shocking.” Yasmin took a breath before she told them, “Divine Justinia V ordered me to destroy the phylacteries in every circle of Magi across Thedas. So that when the war began, the Mages would have a fighting chance, and not be exterminated from Southern Thedas. Now that that’s out in the open, let’s get a move on with this Inquisition business, am I right?”

The silence was deafening.

Yasmin took this moment of shock to swiftly flee the room like the brave woman she was.


	7. Suiting Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin has a conversation about Loghain and goes to the blacksmith to get her new armour.

CHAPTER 7: Suiting Up

Thankfully, nobody had approached Yasmin for a couple of days, so she’d been using that time to walk around Haven and meet some of the locals like the blacksmith Harritt, and those who were brought here by the Inquisition like Flissa the bartender of The Singing Maiden; the only proper location for socializing other than the chantry…which Yasmin was avoiding until Leliana, Lady Montilyet, or Cassandra ordered her back there. Flissa was a little nervous, but kind.

Yasmin realised pretty quickly that Threnn the quartermaster was a bit controversial in her views about Teryn Loghain Mac Tir. Though she seemed to look out for her elven subordinates all the same, even if she was rather blunt about it. Yasmin actually had a fruitful discussion with Threnn about Loghain’s actions. Threnn was astonished to hear that Yasmin shared her views about the tactical retreat made at Ostagar. “It was a difficult situation. He _could _have probably driven off the Darkspawn Horde, but he would’ve probably lost over half of his army to do it. The Grey Wardens and the King would’ve still mostly likely died.

“It was the Wardens’ fault! They took too long,” Threnn said excitedly, having been on the _wrong _side of the argument for a decade; she was ecstatic about finding a like mind.

Yasmin tilted her head as she read over the requisition lists, “Well, Logahain, the King, and the Wardens had faulty intelligence. The Tower of Ishal was supposed to be completely clear. And if it _had _been, the blight would’ve ended that day, or as good as. And because Wardens Kallian Tabris and Alistair Therin had to fight their way up every level to the top, it took too long. By the time the signal was lit, Loghain’s options were dire either way. Granted, name another two people you’d trust fighting through dozens of Darkspawn alone like those two legends, it’s not their fault.” Yasmin’s tone brooked no argument, and even Threnn had to agree with that point.

Yasmin continued, “It’s not like Loghain set out to fuck everyone over, he had two bad choices, and took the path of least horror, from his perspective. From Tabris and Therin’s perspective, of course Loghain was the villain. Had Loghain heeded the signal, that poor town Lothering might still exist, and Denerim wouldn’t have been attacked directly as it was,” Yasmin was saying, “But he also had a duty to his people. So, on the whole of it, I understand both sides of that debate, and honestly if I were Loghain, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“Thank you Herald, you’re a good one, you know. It means more to me than you know that you share my…that you validated my position. Even Queen Anora didn’t really want me around anymore.” Threnn shrugged sadly. Yasmin looked at the woman standing before her. She was young, _maybe _thirty years old, perhaps just older. At the battle of Ostagar, she would’ve been green as grass. She would’ve been shaking in her armour at the sight of the monsters slaughtering her countrymen below in the valley.

Yasmin looked at Threnn and decided to take a step down in the older woman’s regards, “_My _problem with Loghain was that he treated what he did as treason. He put bounties on the Wardens and closed Ferelden’s borders. If he had accepted the _very _eager aide from former Warden Commander of Orlais Alisse Fontaine and her second in command, current Warden Commander Clarel de Chanson? Even with the loss at Ostagar, the Blight would’ve been over much quicker with far less bloodshed.”

Threnn looked mutinous for a moment, but reigned in her expression. Yasmin put a hand on her shoulder, “I know you’re not a big supporter of the Orlesian Empire, and frankly, neither am I. But The _Wardens _stand apart from the Empire, the Kingdoms, and the City States. The system works that way for a reason. That reason was so that situations like what Loghain’s reign during the Fifth Blight brought would never come to pass. Instead of two Wardens running around with a ragtag group of admittedly powerful friends, the Wardens would’ve stood Legion against the Archdemon. Loghain’s political ambitions got so many people killed _after _the battle of Ostagar. That’s why I hate the man. He was a general second to none, but as a head of state…he was a traitor to those who he had a duty to protect. He shirked his duty of care, for power no less, and I find that unforgivable.” Yasmin realised that her rant had drawn the attention of the pair of Chantry sisters around the campfire and despite being out of Yasmin’s eyesight, she _knew _that Sister Leliana was listening in her tent not twenty paces away. “I didn’t mean to get so heated Threnn, that was unworthy of me.” Yasmin grimaced.

Threnn gave the Herald of Andraste a long look before replying, “No need for an apology my Lady. I…I never thought about it quite like that before. I just couldn’t get past how people would talk shit about Ostagar. I don’t quite agree with you, but I’ll certainly think on it.” Yasmin grinned at the slightly shorter woman.

“That’s fine. And keep your chin up; the Orlesian Left Hand of the Divine chose _you _to be our quartermaster. Obviously somebody wanted you around,” Yasmin tapped her nose knowingly as she walked away and left Threnn with that thought.

Leliana had _indeed _been listening with interest to Yasmin and Threnn’s conversation. She had a hard spot in her heart for Teryn Loghain, for all the suffering she saw his actions wrought on her wife Kallian. Though she supposed she could force herself to agree with Yasmin, tentatively. Maybe _they’d _talk about it. After all, it seems that the Herald was _very _well informed. Judging from Yasmin’s cryptic mention of Kallian in their meeting a couple days ago before swanning off to explore haven, she probably knew more about Kallian than she hinted about; especially if she was able to talk with clarity about the immediate aftermath of the Massacre at Ostagar.

Elsewhere, Yasmin decided that Seggrit the merchant was a right arsehole and she’d find elsewhere to do business in the future…maybe someone Josephine could entice from Antiva or Orlais down the line perhaps? Perhaps she’d have a word with Leliana about it later.

The next morning, Yasmin was enjoying a brisk walk among the pines in the cold of morning, exploring the terrain around the frozen lake. She decided not to antagonize the herd of druffalo…for now, found a logging stand, and a set of medical notes in a rundown cabin. But she decided to finally get to work, so she made her way towards the smithy.

“So, you’re her, the Herald of Andraste.” Harritt the heavily moustachioed armourer said as Yasmin walked up to the forge outside the walls.

“That’s what you people have been calling me, yes.” Yasmin replied neutrally.

“What do you mean by ‘you people’?” Harritt asked with a twitch of his moustache.

Yasmin shrugged, “Denizens of Haven?”

“Word of you has spread farther than this frozen shithole of a village. It’s been days already, and there’ve been horses and riders in and out of the gates ever since,” Harritt replied with a shrug.

“Josephine mentioned you could make armour for me?” Yasmin asked.

“Been expecting you to come by these last few days, though if you came by earlier, I wouldn’t have been able to help you. Ah, yes. Well, Cassandra was the one to give us your measurements and preferences after the Breach did a number on ya, so I hope we were able to make these to your liking,” Harritt responded as he gestured for the woman working the forge to fetch something. She quickly went into the hut and returned with something that made the herald smile.

Yasmin realised she’d have to thank Cassandra the next time she wandered up to the hurricane herself on the training ground. She glanced at Cassandra from where she could make her out in the distance, and yep, there were a few less training dummies now.

Harritt and his assistant had produced a set of dark armour that complemented her hair. Harritt had clearly gotten his information from Cassandra, and the information was good. The armour itself was deceptively heavy because it used a blue vitriol and onyx interlocking weaved chainmail mesh. Over that was hardened leather layered over and between thin-but-freakishly strong plates of Stormheart. To an enemy, it would look like she was wearing abnormally dark hardened leather armour, which was exactly how Yasmin liked it. The fauld made from paragon’s luster with Nevarrite inlaid would be draped over her hips and extended down to surround her knees like a plated armoured dress, but it was oriented in such a way that it didn’t hinder complex movement. Great bear hide gloves and boots with onyx plating wrapped with darkened samite for stealth also made Yasmin’s eyes wide with glee. She was very excited about the whole colour scheme. 

Cassandra definitely came through for her with this, and Yasmin couldn’t help but squeal as Harritt explained that this style and material circumvented the typical disparity between weight and protection. Yasmin was maybe regretting being so cheeky with her former mentor. And perhaps, Yasmin hoped, that Cassandra regretted the way she treated her ex-apprentice in the dungeon and the rest of that day really. Bringing up her half-elven heritage was cruel, no matter the situation; even if it was implied. Yasmin had enough of being called a ‘half-breed’ by her fellow Seekers in training; she didn’t like that such an insult fell so readily from the lips of someone who knew better. Someone she loved. If this splendid display of armour was Cassandra’s beginning of an apology, Yasmin was willing to give the older Seeker another chance at reconciliation.

Oblivious to Yasmin’s internal thoughts and hurts, Harritt continued in bright tones, “You must have friends in high places Herald, these materials would normally be very hard to come by. But they were very fun to craft with, let me tell you!” Harritt said, delighted at his benefactor’s obvious delight with his work. “But that’s not all the Seeker and Sister Nightingale commissioned for you,” he said, gesturing for his assistant to bring something else over.

“Please call me Yasmin. Waking up and being called the ‘Herald of Andraste’ is more than a little unnerving. I’m still the same woman I was last week...mostly,” Yasmin said quietly as she shook out her glowing right hand. Harritt considered her for a moment and shrugged as if the distinction didn’t make much of a difference to him.

There was first brought over what looked to be a simple bolt of cloth, cut in such a way that it would be perfect for covering her Tranquillity branding on her forehead. “I’m not sure what this was for, probably an upgrade to that ratty bandana you’ve got,” Yasmin didn’t even flinch at his casual insult as she picked up the new accessory. It wasn’t personal after all.

“This feels strange,” Yasmin remarked as she touched the new and longer headband with care.

“It bloody well should! It’s basically a strip of refined bloodstone chainmail mesh encased in a long pocket of wyvern scales leather. It’s incredibly flexible, and I’m not sure how Sister Nightingale found the materials for that, or frankly the design for this. It took a few tries to get right. The first three versions had problems with the metal inside cutting through the leather; but I worked out the right partnership between wyvern scale and bloodstone that allow both strength and flexibility. The Seeker said it was important to you.”

Yasmin picked up the head wrap with reverence and said, “Thank you for making this for me, it means a lot.”

“Don’t thank me, Herald. Sister Nightingale delivered the schematic to me in person. Seeker Pentaghast asked that her resources be shared with you for the moment, as I understand it your provisions were destroyed in the explosion. Don’t expect the headband to deflect a direct blow from a sword or axe, but it _should _deflect most arrows and dagger swipes…ideally. You’ll have to let me know how it goes!” Yasmin chuckled at the older man’s enthusiasm. She got the feeling he was rather bored with his usual fare. She tuned him out for a few seconds but recovered herself when she heard the spymaster’s name again.

“Sister Nightingale showing up behind me with the schematics for the armour set here without a sound was probably one of the scariest moments of my life, if I’m being honest. Her eyes just _see _you, you know? If she were a mage, I’d be worried she’d read all my _thoughts_,” Harritt said with a small shudder.

“Well, you’re fantastic Messer Harritt, and I appreciate your skills. They’re certainly nothing to scoff at,” Yasmin smiled. She briefly tapped her bandana-covered forehead before deciding to change it out with her new and drastically improved and _somehow_ _armoured _band when she was back in the privacy of her new room. Or Josephine’s room rather.

She’d probably need to talk to the Antivan about their sleeping arrangements, because she had the feeling Lady Montilyet would shoot down her offer to leave and sleep outside in one of these fine tents as she’d done the last couple nights. She’d been avoided the tiny Antivan just to forestall that conversation. Just then one of the tents, the one she had been sleeping in actually, flew loose as a rogue gale blew through Haven. Yasmin chuckled uneasily before turning back to the blacksmith, “You make weapons here too right? Should I bring you the materials for that?” Yasmin asked as she turned back to the blacksmith with a smile on her face, new equipment held lovingly in her arms.

“The Seeker said to go to her for your weapon. I would be happy to make you one once you’re done talking with her. Between you and me, I think you’ve got the perfect form for dual wielding short swords,” Harritt said with an appraising gaze.

Yasmin cocked her head with curiosity before nodding, “I may take you up on that actually. I usually alternate my fighting styles frequently enough to carry the weapons of multiple disciplines. I’ll get back to you about that yeah?” Yasmin said with her Starkhaven lilt. Before walking away, she turned back looking sheepish and asked, “If nobody is in your cabin, would you mind if I changed into these?”

Harritt rolled his eyes at the young woman’s zeal. “Might as well.”

Yasmin _skipped_ the short distance to the cabin as Harritt just shook his head and chuckled.


	8. Hero of Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin finds her purpose.

CHAPTER 8: Hero of Old

Cassandra’s tent was bigger than she’d have liked it to be. When Cullen insisted she get her own, despite her protestations her preparations could be done inside the chantry, Josephine immediately backed him up. “Think of the image we want to send Seeker Pentaghast. We will not have one our inner circle doing their work in squalor,” the diplomat had all but declared. Though a declaration from Josephine came with infuriatingly calm voice, and a surprisingly good blend of tea imported from Tevinter of all places.

So Cassandra was in her tent, just outside the gates of Haven. Cullen’s was slightly smaller, and it was next to hers. The tent flap hid her; indeed, there was no designation that this tent belonged to her at all, but Cullen knew, and had ordered his lieutenants to leave it alone.

She could hear that girl from earlier, Lysette, milling about outside, in the middle of an argument with one of the other Templar recruits that they had fished out of the debris from the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The unknown Templar, who sounded like every petulant boy Cassandra had ever met, was begging Lysette to reconsider her allegiance to the Inquisition. Cassandra admirably restrained herself from stepping outside for a moment to throttle the young man, and was rewarded with a passionate defence of the Inquisition and indeed the Herald of Andraste herself by the vibrant Lysette.

Cassandra looked back down at her notes, and decided to not record what Yasmin said earlier. Yasmin…Cassandra shook her head in frustration. The girl–woman now, still managed to frustrate her just as easily as she had as a teenager training for her Vigil. Cassandra remembered a time Yasmin had broken a leg having fallen out of a tree to return a baby bird to its nest. She had been livid with the girl, all of eleven years old at the time, and scolded her about reaching for things beyond her means; both physically and in other aspects. Young Yasmin had weathered the scolding with a stubborn pout, utterly unconvinced that she was in the wrong.

Cassandra sat back in her chair and ran a hand through her hair, careful not to dishevel her circlet braid in pained contemplation. She had failed Yasmin. The girl had been alone, and scared, and FUCKING TRANQUIL FOR A YEAR, and Cassandra hadn’t even _inquired _after her former charge. She had _trusted _Lucius and Lambert to handle things.

Cassandra shook her head and stood, pushing the chair behind her, the legs of it digging grooves in the dirt. Upon hearing what Yasmin had suffered, Cassandra felt as if the water underneath Haven’s lake had replaced the blood in her veins. She felt _responsible_; and while she knew that Yasmin was well, now, the elder Seeker’s heart broke for her former apprentice.

Yasmin had obviously not told them everything. She’d completely skirted around what it _felt _like to be Tranquil. Cassandra was wracking herself, trying to _remember _her own Vigil, tried to remember what it was like to be Tranquil; even if it was only for moments. _Why _didn’t she remember something like that? If all Seekers were technically former Tranquil…perhaps the terrifying rumours coming out of the White Spire were true. The implications that there was a possible _cure _for Tranquillity would certainly have helped stoke the flames of discontent among the mages. A darker part of Cassandra thought, _and why wouldn’t they rise up against those who would so casually violate them. Wasn’t Kirkwall’s Gallows enough evidence that Templars in fact widely and wildly abused the Final Sanction that is the Rite of Tranquillity?_

Cassandra let out a disgusted noise at her own failings. She didn’t see the truth before. Didn’t _want _to. She wasn’t suddenly in full support of the mages, apostates now. She’d never forget the maleficarum who butchered her brother right in front of her. But she was not so blind to the failings of the Chantry as she was when she joined the Seekers at age thirteen so she could become strong enough to kill mages, to get vengeance for Anthony. _Just like Yasmin now seeks vengeance for the Annulment of Dairsmuid_, Cassandra thought with a shudder. She’d never been to Dairsmuid. She’d never seen an Annulment. She knew of course, that ten years ago, Kinloch hold had issued a request for an Annulment. She knew that Cullen, Leliana, Empress Celene’s mysterious new Court Enchanter, and the Hero of Ferelden had all been in the thick of it. Apparently Wynne had _died _during that conflict. But no Annulment took place, the Wardens convinced the Knight Commander to rescind the request for the Rite, but only just.

Cassandra didn’t miss Cullen’s flinch and Leliana’s _almost _flinch at the mere _mention _of Ferelden’s Circle Tower. She’d have to ask about it later. Perhaps that night was well, _important _to why the pair seemed to hate each other.

About a hundred metres from where Cassandra’s tent was, Yasmin was still in Harritt’s cabin, pulling on her new armour. She grinned at the feel of it. She’d been wearing Templar armour for the last couple weeks to fit in with the Templars headed to the Conclave. After all the strangeness that surrounded the death of Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves, showing up to the conclave in her own Seeker regalia was ill advised.

Yasmin took a moment to breath deeply for a few minutes, slowing everything down. She looked down at the armour she was to wear and smiled sadly. Yasmin wished she knew where Dagna was; the dwarf enchanter, or _Arcanist_, as Dagna insisted would love the innovation with armour set. Yasmin quietly chuckled to herself, thinking about the insane modifications Dagna would love to add on to an already splendid piece of art like this.

As Yasmin was pulling off her shirt, the door to the cabin opened and closed again. She turned around quickly; ready to annihilate the fool who would seek to take advantage of her in this state. “Minaeve asked me to come find you, Lady Herald. She said that she would like to talk to you before you depart for the Hinterlands on the morrow.” The speaker was a pretty human woman with pale skin and dark hair. She was probably a couple years older than Yasmin, and she showed no awkwardness with catching the Herald with her top off. It only took one look for Yasmin to see why there was no sputtering of embarrassment from this trespasser.

Yasmin’s mystery intruder was also Tranquil. The Sunburst Lyrium brand was an eerie red contrast to her pale forehead.

Yasmin’s expression instantly softened. “I’m sorry you caught me in such a state of undress. I would very much rather you call me Yasmin. I would call you by your name as well, if you would like me to know it.”

“Very well, Yasmin.” the Tranquil woman responded blankly. “My name is Helisma Derington.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Helisma,” Yasmin said with a soft smile. Yasmin didn’t bother to cover herself before approaching Helisma before very lightly putting a gentle hand on the woman’s upper arm. “Thank you for seeking me out.”

Helisma regarded the Herald with no warmth or coldness, just the eerie calm that typified her kind. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Helisma asked with a small furrow in her brow.

“Because I appreciate you, and work you do. Has anybody mistreated you or interfered with you in anyway since arriving here in Haven?” Yasmin asked tenderly.

“Thank you for your kind sentiment, Yasmin. But I do not require it to be efficient in my duties. No. Nobody has treated me badly since arriving here, and I have been unmolested in my work. Minaeve had words with Josephine and Leliana I believe, to ensure that myself and the rest of the Tranquil Minaeve managed to shepherd to safety here are treated well. I’m thankful to her for that.”

“Minaeve brought you here with other Tranquil?” Yasmin asked, unable to hide her surprise.

“Most of us here are her doing, yes. There were more of us who began the journey, but Minaeve did her best to mitigate any losses,” Helisma said.

Yasmin’s jaw clenched at the Helisma’s mention of her deceased colleagues. “I’m glad to know some of you made it here safely at least. I know the journey must’ve been…_trying_.”

“Yes. It was very different than life in the Circle. There are so many animals in Thedas. I had forgotten,” Helisma said with her normal inflection, but Yasmin couldn’t help but notice her word choice and made an assumption.

“You used to enjoy animals?” Yasmin asked.

“Very much so. But…I don’t remember why. It is because of my earlier affinity for wildlife that I worked on researching creatures with Minaeve. She petitioned the First Enchanter to allow me to join her on some of her more ambitious projects. I am grateful for that; it allowed me to help write several papers that were sent to the College of Magi in Nevarra.”

“That’s fantastic Helisma! You should be proud of that accomplishment,” Yasmin said with a small squeeze of congratulations on Helisma’s arm.

“I have not felt pride since I was made Tranquil,” Helisma pointed out.

Yasmin nodded, undiminished in her own pride at the woman before her, “I know that. I regret that you cannot. It is an impressive feat, that is all, and I want you to know that since you cannot feel pride about your accomplishments, _I _will be proud for you,” Yasmin declared.

“I do not understand why you would. It is illogical,” Helisma stated blandly.

Yasmin paused and asked, “Can I give you a hug?”

Helisma’s head quirked in confusion, but she said, “Alright.”

Yasmin slowly encircled the Tranquil in her arms, silently vowing to Helisma and herself that she would find a way to fix this; to end Tranquillity in Thedas. It was possible, with more information it would be actionable. “You must promise me something, Helisma.”

“Yes, Yasmin?” Helisma asked without hesitation.

“If _anybody _mistreats you, _puts hands _on you, or interferes with you in bad faith, you will tell me immediately. If I am not around, you will tell Sister Leliana.” Yasmin said firmly, with her eyes searching Helisma’s for _something_.

“I promise, Yasmin,” Helisma said.

If there was _one _thing she wanted, no, _needed_ to accomplish with all this power building behind the moniker ‘Herald of Andraste’, it would be a betrayal to not give her all to this cause. She would find a way to save the Tranquil.

“Thank you, Helisma. I know I must seem strange to you,” Yasmin said as she went to put on the torso portion of her armour.

“You are welcome, Yasmin. I do think you are strange, in that you show me kindness. You are not visibly uncomfortable in my presence. It is different. I think it is nice.” Helisma said slowly.

Yasmin made the final checks on her armour and looked up at Helisma with a winning smile. “I am glad you think so. How do I look?”

Helisma paused for a long moment before responding with serene clarity, “You look like a hero of old.”

_Hero of old…_

Yasmin gasped and her eyes widened, filled with tears. She had been meaning the question as a jest. But magnitude of the situation she found herself in hit her in full force with those few simple words from this tragic woman she had just met. They were at the dawn of the Second Inquisition, resurrecting the Inquisition of Old, and Yasmin was its fulcrum. She may not be Inquisitor, but the whole thing now fell apart without her.

The weight of the world was on her shoulders…but all Yasmin could think of was this one woman in front of her, personality and soul extinguished for…what? Political purposes? To sate a monster’s lust? Perhaps by her own misguided request, or because no teacher took the time to train her? Yasmin’s thoughts went from the absolute clusterfuck of the bigger picture to a much smaller one standing in front of her. She needed to save this woman, somehow. Yasmin was living proof that it was possible. Why was she saved, and not Helisma? What made her worthy? _Nothing. She’s just as worthy, they all are. I’m just _lucky._ I am the one. It’s up to me to fix this ungodly mutilation of the mages in Thedas. I won’t waste this chance, I swear, _Yasmin’s thoughts whirled through her head as she let out a half-sob she managed to mostly choke back.

Yasmin’s tears fell traitorously down her cheeks, breaking on the scar tissue they met on the journey to the ground.

“You’re crying,” Helisma said.

“I will be.”

“No, you’re literally crying right now, Yasmin.” Helisma pointed out.

Yasmin shook her head as she tried and eventually succeeded in getting her sobs back under control. She met Helisma’s eyes with a sad smile again on her face , “I will be hero Helisma, I swear.”


	9. Walk and Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin talks to Cassandra, and then Lysette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: for Discussion of rape in a military context.

CHAPTER 9: Walk and Talk

After Yasmin’s epiphany, Helisma left to return from her duties and Yasmin was again alone once more. She briefly touched her own lyrium brand of Tranquillity; hidden by her new and improved headpiece. She let out a sigh; the last time she had left it uncovered in public was when infiltrating one of the Circles. Nobody paid attention to the Tranquil, except that one Templar who tried and failed to have his way with her. Yasmin smirked to herself as she remembered his screams for mercy as they went unanswered. Though the feel of that Templar’s hand on her chin still brought her shivers. Though that darker thought made her think about something she was going to have to address and soon.

She took a deep breath and knew what she had to do, and exactly who she needed to talk to do it. She walked out of the cabin and approached Harritt briefly, “Thank you again master Harritt, this is fantastic work! The Inquisition is lucky to have you,” Harritt grinned and waved her away with a bashful smile that made him look decades younger.

Yasmin looked around and decided to get her weapon first, then go to the chantry.

“Cassandra?” Yasmin asked as she pushed back the flap on Cassie’s tent. “Harritt said to come to you for my weaponry. I figured I’d stop by quickly before heading back to the chantry.”

Cassandra looked up from her notes and Yasmin caught the fading look of deep contemplation before she gave a small smile and said, “Your new armour fits you quite well. The tension of the last few days feels a little easier to bear now that you have proper protection on your person.”

Yasmin quirked an eyebrow as she stepped into the tent properly, “Are your relived that your precious ‘Herald’ is protected, or your former student?”

“Both.” Cassandra didn’t mince words. “You came for your new weaponry, correct? It is here.” Cassandra rose from her chair and approached a long chest that had stacks of papers on top of it. Cassandra ‘tsked’ at herself as she moved the papers to her desk before unlocking the chest. “I remember that you were well-versed in most forms of combat. But I also remember you were truly exceptional at the more obscure arts. In particular…” Cassandra smirked at the growing expression of excitement and awe on the younger woman’s face.

Cassandra stepped back to reveal two complimentary weapons in the chest along with a proper mount, and a sheath. The one that immediately caught Yasmin’s eye was the spear. She plucked it out of the chest and grinned like a child as made to spin it around, but Cassandra swiftly grasped her wrist, “You’re not a child anymore, don’t tear my tent asunder for your own enjoyment.”

Yasmin grimaced as she realised her excitement _might _have gotten out of hand for a moment. “Well, this is a beauty. I confess I didn’t expect such _luxurious _treatment in terms of my arms and armour here.”

Cassandra shrugged, “Josephine, Leliana, and I felt that since you are going to be at least the new face of this Inquisition, you should represent the best of us; and that means having arms and armour that not only keep you healthy and strong, but _look _the part.”

Yasmin nodded. She expected as much, but she hid her smile at the pride in Cassandra’s voice. The older woman stopped talking as Yasmin put a hand on her arm. “I know that _you _are responsible for these gifts Cassandra. Sister Leliana may have facilitated the delivery of the schematics and materials, but _you _were the one to insist on them.”

Cassandra’s face coloured a little at being figured out so easily. “I–I am. But my reasons stand firm.”

Yasmin smiled as she fastened the holder for the spear onto her back. The spear itself was not too flashy, but Yasmin recognised skill when she saw it. Further than that, she was touched that when commissioning her personal weapons… “You remembered,” Yasmin almost _crooned _as she took the second weapon from the chest.

“Medium-range and close-quarters are your specialty. I remember you clinging to your spear and sword when Daniel and the others mocked you for not walking the traditional path of the sword and shield.”

Yasmin grinned at the reminder. “Have you heard from Daniel recently? I know he wasn’t a part of the Annulments, but other than that, I have no clue as to where he is. Is he dead?” Yasmin frowned as she realised her knowledge of Seeker whereabouts was a decade out of date.

“As far as I know, he is, yes. He passed his Vigil and worked with me for a time, but that was over half a decade ago. He sent me a letter asking what I planned to do about the oncoming war, but that was also years ago.”

“We aren’t great at keeping in contact with each other are we?” Yasmin grinned as she examined the sword that would accompany her spear.

Yasmin looked up though Cassandra seemed to anticipate her question, “I wasn’t sure if you would prefer a shield to a sword, but I settled on the sword since most shields we’ll find will be of passable quality, though the swords may not be. Iron can repel blades, but dulls quite quickly after all.”

“Are you sure some of your powers aren’t mind-reading?” Yasmin smiled as she fitted the sheath to the small of her back. The spear overlapped the sword, which was fine for Yasmin, since she planned to draw her spear first in most situations.

“I assure you, they are not,” Cassandra replied wryly. Yasmin didn’t say anything further, but something she had said a few moments before picked at Cassandra’s mind. “Why would you know whether or not Daniel was involved in the Rites of Anullment?”

Yasmin twitched uncomfortably, her glowing mood disappeared as her features hardened. “Are you sure you want to go down this line of questioning? Some things are better left a mystery.”

Cassandra could feel righteous anger beginning to boil in her blood, but before she could say anything, Yasmin made her move, a hug. Cassandra was taken by surprise, her forehead lightly tapping the spear as Yasmin pulled her in tightly. “Please Cassie, I won’t lie to you. But you _don’t _have to ask. Please just leave it.”

Cassandra was taken aback by her tone. Yasmin was _rarely _somebody who begged _anything_. “Yasmin…”

Before Cassandra could continue, Yasmin released her and practically fled the tent. Cassandra just slumped down into her chair. One thought was pinging around off the inside of her skull: Yasmin had done something horrible, and while she may not be _ashamed _per say, she was _petrified_ of Cassandra’s reaction, and that broke Cassandra’s heart.

Outside Cassandra’s tent, Yasmin saw something that made her smile. Lysette was in a heated argument with another Templar from the looks of it, so Yasmin went over to them. “What’s this about then?”

“Herald!” Lysette exclaimed as Yasmin strutted up to them. Lysette could be forgiven for flaining for words for a moment; the Herald of Andraste was dressed to kill, and it was too early in the morning for Lysette to properly appreciate it.

“Lysette!” Yasmin returned in the exact pitch Lysette had practically squeaked. “Far be it for me to interrupt such an engaging conversation, but would you walk with me back to the chantry?”

Lysette found her tongue and replied, “Of course, Your Worship.”

So they set off to the chantry. “I’m curious of something, if you’d indulge me with an honest opinion, Lysette,” Yasmin said as they walked by Varric.

The Dwarven businessman was engaged in some kind of debate with Seggrit. Yasmin nodded to Varric, but kept walking as Lysette replied, “Yes, Ma’am. What is it?”

“What is your opinion of Cullen as the leader of the Inquisition forced?” Yasmin’s tone was as casual as you like, but Lysette could sense the question was more layered than she wanted to think about right now.

“He’s certainly not the worst superior officer I’ve had,” Lysette said after a moment of consideration.

“Hardly a ringing endorsement,” Yasmin replied neutrally.

Lysette bowed her head and elaborated, “He’s a fine soldier. He knows how to command Templars. He is well-respected by his men.”

“Oh? And you have nothing to say about how he tried to dismiss you from the Inquisition on a whim, in front of the inner circle? I trust there have been no _reprisals,_” Yasmin’s tone could be confused for pleasant. But something about it set Lysette’s teeth on edge.

Lysette replied, “I disobeyed an order. Even if it was the right thing to do; he was well within his rights to dismiss me.” Yasmin gave the woman a critical glance and Lysette continued, “There have been no reprisals of any kind, my Lady.”

Yasmin seemed to consider Lysette’s words as the snow crunched under their feet less and less as the path to the chantry had been thoroughly tread. “Is that all you have to say about Templar Rutherford?”

Lysette considered for a moment before saying, “There have been _incidents_. Nothing too serious, and I wasn’t involved. But some of the men seem to think that the women-Templars are ah–,” Lysette thought of how best to phrase things as to not besmirch the Forces of the Inquisition.

“There have been rapes?” Yasmin asked curtly.

“No. At least, I don’t _think so_. But there have been many wandering hands, and some _threats_ made while intoxicated,” Lysette said quietly.

Yasmin stopped and put a tender hand on Lysette’s arm almost hesitantly. “Lysette, and I can’t overstate the importance of this,” Yasmin paused before confirming the sisters of the chantry who were walking by had passed out of earshot. “Was Cullen made aware of these attacks?”

Lysette looked uncomfortable before saying, “Yes. But when he ascertained that nobody was _injured _or somehow made _unfit _for duty, he didn’t look any further.”

Yasmin seemed to be searching Lysette’s eyes for something, but the young Templar wasn’t sure for what. She had been honest. “And have the soldiers been involved in _incidents _that involved civilians or other people outside of the Commander’s jurisdiction?”

“Not that I know,” Lysette said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if there have been either. Who would question the word of an Inquisition Templar if there were an inquiry? But it’s not like here is any _worse _off than anywhere else,” Lysette said with not enough enthusiasm.

“Quite right,” Yasmin nodded as she decided on a course of action. Lysette was slightly worried about the hatred seeping into Yasmin’s voice.

“But there are good people in command as well. Knight-Captain Rylen from Starkhaven; he’s an exemplary officer. He was the one who began looking into these incidents.” Lysette spoke up.

“Oh? And what has Rylen done with the guilty?” Yasmin asked, genuinely surprised that a _man _had stepped up at least a little.

“He wanted them in the chantry dungeon, but Cullen intervened, said that ‘it would send the wrong message to our noble guests.’ Rylen wasn’t happy, and others weren’t as well, but Commander’s orders, you know?” Lysette finished glibly.

“Hmm. Well, would you be willing to introduce me to the ah, _wounded _parties sometime later?” Yasmin asked.

“Yes, I would. Of course, my Lady,” Lysette replied with a relieved grin.

“Thank you for telling me of this _issue._ I will see that there won’t be any further incidents. Or at least,” Yasmin paused, tilting her head, “those responsible will not escape justice.”

“It would be nice to have someone looking out for us ladies,” Lysette smiled.

Yasmin grasped Lysette’s shoulder for a moment before saying, “I would like for you to accompany me. Into the Hinterlands with Varric, Solas; and probably Cassandra. Now she’s back in my life, she’s probably not going to let me go?” Yasmin chuckled.

Lysette was gobsmacked. “Are you sure? You realise of course that I’m no better against magic than the average warrior now. I’m certainly nowhere near a Seeker’s level of skill.”

“I’m aware. I’m also aware that you stood up to your commanding officer at potentially great cost to yourself. I need courage like that at my side. So, what do you say?”

Lysette was still stunned from Yasmin’s proposition. Yasmin decided to have a little mercy on the slightly younger woman, “Well, I’m going to speak with our spymaster for a moment, I’ll let you think about it. Also, I want it to be clear that declining my offer is absolutely fine as well. There’s no pressure,” Yasmin grinned and entered the war room alone.


	10. Leliana Makes a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana and Yasmin have a frank discussion.

CHAPTER 10: Leliana Makes a Friend

“I would like a moment to think about it, if that’s okay,” Lysette murmured.

Yasmin nodded and opened the door to the war room without further ado. As she hoped, Leliana was bent over the table, deep in thought about her plans no doubt. “Sister? Would it be alright if I had a private word with you?”

Leliana looked up and appraised the new look of the Herald with a slight smile, “Ah, I was hoping I’d get to see you in full regalia. What do you need, Yasmin?”

Yasmin’s smile dimmed as she prepared for an argument. “I need you to look for a replacement for Cullen Rutherford.”

Leliana’s eyebrows rose, but didn’t seem very surprised all things considered. “Oh? And what spurred this on?”

“A number of things, but there are at least two reasons that he is unfit to command this Inquisition’s forces that have little to do with his crimes against mages in Kirkwall.”

“And these are?” Leliana asked as she lightly crossed her arms over her chest and pierced Yasmin with her icy eyes.

For all her training and experience, Yasmin felt Leliana’s gaze as keenly as a blade. It was no wonder this woman was capable of espionage spanning the contintent with eyes like those. “He’s a Templar who isn’t taking Lyrium, which presents a _number _of problems. And he has dismissed reports of sexual violence within his ranks,” Yasmin noted the darkness that floated across Leliana’s expression at the mention of sexual violence, so she paused. Once Leliana’s mask of neutrality flickered back into existence, Yasmin decided it was alright to continue.

“While I’m inclined to interrogate the man on the second offence alone, I believe that the former offence would be the most likely to garner traction going forward. I know you respect Cassandra, but Cullen is–,”

“A monster, yes. I know that better than you do, actually,” Leliana said with a mirthless grin. “You don’t need to convince me of his _inadequacies _as a commander here. I fear you will have more trouble convincing Cassandra on account of her stubbornness. And Josephine will need to find a way to eventually smooth this over publically with our potential allies.”

Yasmin was stunned at the admission from her spymaster. “I got the feeling you didn’t like him much, but I wasn’t expecting to have you on bouard after half a conversation.”

“At Kinloch hold, Cullen advocated quite loudly for the extermination of _every _mage in the Circle. When the Abomination appeared, do you know what the fearless Templars did?” Leliana drawled. Yasmin was a little wary at Leliana’s tone. It was course and frankly scary. When she wanted the spymaster to look for a replacement for Cullen, she was not anticipating a horror story.

“Did they deal with it as they had been trained to? No. They fled like cowards to the first level, sent for the Rite of Annulment, and locked the doors behind them. The mages were nearly entirely slaughtered because of that. I’ll never forget the ripped open bodies of children less than ten who were less than twenty paces from safety before the Templars condemned them to death.” Leliana had a hatred in her voice that Yasmin recognized in herself.

Yasmin was almost afraid to ask, but ask she did. “And Cullen’s role in this?”

Leliana tilted her head, “The guilty few mages were using him to fuel their spell. Torturing him. But once Morrigan, Alistair, the Hero, and myself saved him…Cullen _begged _for the surviving mages to be _annulled._ Had Kallian made a different choice, there would be no Ferelden Circle today. Just a very tall mausoleum.”

Yasmin took a breath and circled the table to where Leliana was standing. “I saw the aftermath of the Annulment of the Dairsmuid Circle. The keening of mothers who had lost their young daughters. I waded through blood and the naked, ravaged bodies of women I had _known_. Mages aren’t _people _to the Templars, or the Seekers.” Yasmin quickly shook her head of the worst day of her life, but was unsuccessful of ridding her mind of those traumatising images. She persisted nonetheless, “So if you ever want to talk more about the horror you experienced at the Ferelden Circle, or elsewhere, know that I have an incomplete understanding. But I know _something _akin to the horrors you’ve weathered.”

Leliana seemed to come back to herself after Yasmin finished speaking. For a fraction of a moment, there was a very _vulnerable _look on her face, but that disappeared. “Thank you. I…I should never have let you see me like this.”

Yasmin shook her head, “On the contrary, I believe you and I have quite a bit in common that the others here may not understand, not even Cassandra. If I’m being completely honest,” Yasmin paused at the hint of a grin Leliana gave her, “I may need to talk to you, share some of my burdens so to speak, before this is all over. I have no expectations of you, but I would very much like to be your friend if you’ll have me,” Yasmin finished shyly. She had briefly considered courting Leliana before the face of former Warden Commander Kallian Tabris swum into her mind’s eye…that wasn’t a relationship Yasmin wanted to tamper with...ever. So friends it would stay, if Leliana was amiable.

Leliana looked at Yasmin with an outright confused expression. “Friend? Me? Surely you’ve heard of what I’ve done for the Divine, for the Chantry you so hate.”

Yasmin nodded and said, “You were not involved in the Rites of Annulment. And you seem to have a soft spot for mages, which means your heart is clearly less steeled than you’d like me to believe.”

Leliana scoffed, “Oh? And if I _did _have something to do with the death of your _friends _in Rivain?” It was a hypothetical, and they both knew it, but Yasmin’s expression seemed _pained_.

“You didn’t. Neither did Justinia, or Cassandra. I checked. Rigorously,” Yasmin said quietly. Leliana paused before snapping back, and saw the _shamed _look in Yasmin’s eyes. Yasmin continued with an almost fearful look back at Leliana. “If you had been involved, any three of you, or _all _three of you, I would have struck you down.”

Leliana sat on that for a couple solid minutes of silence. She repressed the reflexive retort, ‘as if you could take me, or Cassandra,’ but then she _really _thought about Yasmin’s surety. Yasmin was a Seeker of Truth who had been hunting corrupt Templars, and infiltrating Circles to destroy and obfuscate her sabotage of the _biggest _advantage the Chantry had against the Mages. The scale of that feat alone implied that Yasmin’s skill did not only lay in strength of arms, but at infiltration and stealth as well. “Even Cassandra?” Leliana had to ask. If for nothing else, Cassandra was one of her last friends, and this was her student having just declared she would’ve assassinated her if the situation had been different.

Yasmin looked up and met Leliana’s eyes. “Yes. I would hate myself, but if she had a hand in that…that…” Yasmin felt tears form in her eyes as she struggled to put words to the nameless horror that walking through the savaged corpses of her friends had been. Yasmin pulled herself back in before responding in a level voice. “Cassandra doesn’t know it yet, but she now suspects it strongly, but I hunted much of our order down like dogs. They never expected one of their own to _empathize _with the mages, to seek _justice _in the only way that could be guaranteed. There are a few who escaped me. I know not where they currently reside. And not all of the Order of Seekers participated in the carnage because like Cassandra, they felt the Lord Seekers went too far in breaking the Nevarran Accord.” Yasmin’s confession was delivered with sombre clarity. There was no doubt, no tremble, and no _regret _in her voice. Despite her own horrific deeds, Leliana shivered.

Yasmin didn’t look likely to speak again unprompted, and Leliana let the silence sit for a little while before trying to bring this maudlin conversation to an end. “I will discreetly look…for replacements for Cullen. But what will you do when Cassandra tries to block this motion. What about Cullen and his men who are loyal to him?”

“I have heard talk of this Knight-Captain Rylen…he seems a good man, though I haven’t met him. He’d be a fine interim commander. But I will not work with a man who allows the rape of his soldiers. I will not work with a man who was at the heart of the evil in Kirkwall.” Yasmin’s voice was less dark, but no less firm.

Leliana paused before saying, “Sometimes we have no choice in who–,”

“Choice?” Yasmin scoffed. She then shook her head. “Sorry. But if there is no choice at present, I’ll give you one. Either Cullen leaves this endeavour, or I will set out on my own. Unburdened by the Inquisition, I can seal rifts faster anyway.” Yasmin wasn’t sure how she’d fix the _big _rift in the sky, but she could get to it with some help eventually.

“You think we cannot stop you from leaving?” Leliana tested the waters.

“Not indefinitely, and how would _that _look to prospective allies? You’ve already branded me the Herald of Andraste. I have no doubt that rumour either started, or was boosted tenfold in this room. I’m not asking for him to be gone tomorrow, I’m not unrealistic. But within the next month or so, I want somebody else commanding these soldiers.”

“You think your name gives you _authority _over me?” Leliana asked pleasantly with the knife-edge smile of hers.

“No. But it will wield public opinion deftly in time.” Yasmin’s response wasn’t something Leliana could argue. Because the ‘Herald of Andraste’ gambit they had played may indeed work too well. Leliana knew that making Yasmin an outspoken or even silent enemy of the Inquisition was a _bad _idea. And there was little doubt in Leliana’s mind that this formidable woman speaking with her commoner Starkhaven lilt would bring the Inquisition to its knees if she felt like she had no choice but to do so.

Leliana let out a sigh. It wasn’t defeat; after all, she wanted Cullen gone too. But she couldn't help that Yasmin getting the better of her, even temporarily, settled badly in her. “Very well. The search will happen. But you need to at least get Josephine on board before I can even tentatively reach out to candidates. And even then, those candidates I find will have to be ratified by Cassandra, Josephine, and myself before action can be taken.”

Yasmin’s dour expression burst into a smile that took Leliana by surprise. “That’s all I wanted! Thank you Leliana.”

Leliana’s bemused expression shone through her frown. “Oh, is that _all?_”

Yasmin’s head jerked, like she had just remembered something. “I need your spies, preferably your women, to look out for the Tranquil here in Haven. They are always vulnerable, and surrounded by so many men, soldiers no less, it is only a matter of time before they are violated. And I want the names of the known rapists in Cullen’s forces, perhaps Rylen could help with that.”

Leliana nodded firmly, “I will have Charter tell our personnel to do that. Do you know of any _incidents _that have already happened, with the Tranquil?” Leliana prayed for a negative.

“Not that I know. But that’s the problem isn’t it?” Yasmin grimaced.

Leliana nodded in commiseration. There was a tentative knock on the door. “This has been an _interesting _talk, Yasmin.”

Yasmin let out a small laugh, “Yes. Yes it has. Though I do want to be your friend, even if we’ll likely clash on some things.”

“I’m willing to try, Yasmin,” Leliana says to her own surprise.

With a quick hug, Yasmin departs the room leaving Leliana staring after her with a smile on her lips.


	11. Aggressive Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Templar camp.

CHAPTER 11: Aggressive Negotiations

“All they have is their united voice. If you take that from them, well…” Mother Giselle trailed off as Yasmin nodded her head. Lysette and Cassandra were standing beside them, watching the mage healer tend to the injured peasant Giselle had previously been treating. Solas and Varric were milling about the refugees.

“You’re oddly eager to bring down your fellow clerics. Why is that?” Lysette asked with wide eyes. Yasmin was cleaning the blood from her sword, which she then re-sheathed horizontally on her lower back.

Giselle’s brief disapproval of the casual weapon cleaning vanished from her face when she said, “The Chantry as it is has nothing to offer but fear. Those of us who were well-respected and influential died at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I’ve known Sister Leliana for years, and I trust that this endeavour, this Inquisition is something that can change things for the better in a way that Divine Justinia never could.”

Yasmin cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t seem perturbed by the answer she got.

“Very well. Will you stay here or join the faithful in Haven?” Cassandra spoke up.

Mother Giselle didn’t need to think about her answer much, “I shall make for Haven. With the fighting here having mostly been quelled, I feel like my use will be better served closer to the Inquisition.”

Yasmin looked like she wanted to ask another question, but she shook her head and held out her hand, “Welcome to the Inquisition then, Mother Giselle. Leliana will be delighted you’ve decided to join us.” Yasmin turned away, but then changed her mind to say one last thing before heading back to the I fear that Chancellor Roderick’s behaviour and slander has soured the perception of the Chantry for some of our number. You might have your work cut out for you,” Yasmin grinned as she received a solemn nod from the Reverend Mother.

The trip to the Hinterlands had been mostly uneventful other than Varric and Cassandra bickering; much to the amusement of Lysette. Less than amusing was the fighting they had found when they arrived. Neither the apostates nor the Templars heeded calls for a ceasefire, and so they fell to the Inquisition’s blades. Yasmin was glad the talk with Giselle went as good as she could hope for. At least Leliana wouldn’t be on her about spurning a potentially influential ally.

Closing rifts was still painful. Though by the third rift, Yasmin could feel the pain lessen with each rift sorted…minimally. She said as much to Solas, who replied, “I know not why. Perhaps it is your body becoming more in tuned with your connection to the Fade?” Which wasn’t exactly the response Yasmin was hoping for.

She wasn’t sure what to make of the elven apostate. When he touched her arm, _Empathy’s _powers allowed her to see flashes of things in his mind that were _confusing_. She knew he _definitely _wasn’t what he seemed to be. He was an old one. Like, a _proper _old one. And he knew something about the explosion, but that was shrouded in regret. The image from his head that stayed with her was the one of Solas in a castle in the mountains holding a glowing green orb, and using it to _shatter _the sky in a burst of green that consumed everything.

Yasmin did not know what the hell this was. It was certainly fascinating, but it wasn’t…it didn’t make sense without context. Not for the first time she wished she were a mage with a proper and reliable connection to the Fade. Perhaps she’d be able to see more of this _memory _of his. She wasn’t sure what to make of it exactly, and she didn’t know how the Mark affected her body yet, or how it was only _Solas _who seemed to have any clue about it. She had to admit to herself that she needed him around for the moment for that reason alone, in case it acted up again for some reason. Perhaps she’d voice her concerns to Leliana down the line, when there was a stronger bond between the two.

Several days later the motley crew trudged back to the farm camp, covered in fade-touched wolfs’ blood. The missive for the construction on the farm had been sent and Cullen’s men had come and built the towers. Luckily Haven wasn’t longer than a few days away by bird. By horse though? It was another matter. Yasmin may have some deep problems with Cullen, but he was at least efficient when it mattered.

Yasmin wasn’t too happy with how things were going. There was so much death here. On the second day, after having sent Giselle on to Haven with a small detachment of Scout Harding’s people, they stumbled across the Templar stronghold. “Please, lay down your arms. We don't mean you harm if you stop fucking killing people!” Yasmin had yelled at them. She was already drenched in the blood of their brethren who had preferred to die by the sword.

“You would leash us again. The apostates must be culled! Just look at the carnage they’ve wrought on Thedas! There can never be order so long as they yet live!” was the response that was shouted back from the Knight-Captain who was apparently leading this contingent.

Yasmin let out a disgusted grunt to rival Cassandra, and Varric just barely held in a chuckle. “It seems violence is all they know,” Solas lamented.

“They’ve lost their way,” Cassandra said softly. She was heartbroken over the situation. She’d served with Templars and around Templars her entire adult life. To see them regress to the bloodthirsty savages they were now fighting was a tragedy.

“What happened to _protecting _mages? Wasn’t that your true purpose? Are there none of you who would show mercy to the mage children uprooted by this conflict?” Solas called out as the Templars began to rally.

A small volley of arrows was the reply the elf received; though the barriers he erected around himself and the party shattered the arrows on contact. “This is all wrong,” Lysette said softly. The young recruit raised her voice, “I’m a Templar too! Please, there is a better way!” she beseeched them even as the opposing Templars interlocked their shields, no doubt preparing for Solas to use fire on them.

“And you’re working with the Heretic and a _wild_ knife-ear apostate? Where is your shame?” the Knight-Captain spat back.

“I’m sorry Lysette, Cassandra. But they’re going to die now,” Yasmin said.

“I’ve heard worse from peasants, don’t let your anger on my behalf drive you. Though I am touched by your kindness,” Solas said.

Yasmin shook her head. “The Knight-Captain was dead the moment he talked about culling _all _the mages. The rest will die for following him and defending that hateful rhetoric.” Yasmin turned to Lysette. “This will be different than the few skirmishes we’ve gotten into in the ruins around here. This will be close-quarters and horrible. There is nothing wrong with you if you choose to step back for a bit. These your former compatriots after all; I can’t ask you to help kill them without question. It will not be easy for you, and I’m not talking about the actual combat.”

Lysette’s lip trembled with indignation at being singled out as the weakest link even as she was thankful and touched that Yasmin didn’t have any judgement in her voice. Cassandra spoke up, “It sounds like you’ve experience in this area, something to share?” Yasmin turned to Cassandra with anger in her eyes.

“Later,” Yasmin bit out curtly. The others were put slightly on edge by her tone. She turned back to Lysette, expression softened. “Lysette?”

“I will handle it. I said I’d walk beside you, and I’m a woman of my word,” Lysette said stubbornly as she drew her two handed sword.

Yasmin regarded her for a moment before nodding and turning to their enemies. “Last chance!” she called out. The battered their shields with their blades in taunt.

The Herald of Andraste clenched her jaw and sprung into action, she whipped out her spear and used it as a make-shift pole vault and sailed over their shield barricade. Before the Templar Knights could turn to face her in their heavy armour and five-foot-tall heavy shields, she dew her sword in a wide arc through their lower spines and the occasional kidney, if they were shorter than her. The screams were instant, the ones she cut with that maneuverer were on the ground convulsing in agony, even without her even touching her Lyrium-affecting powers.

The ones that turned to face her immediately regretted it as Varric’s bolts and Solas’ magic tore through the rest of them. “Fist wave down,” Yasmin muttered as she plunged her boot downward to crush the throat of the screaming Templars at her feet.

Yasmin returned her to her spear, which was still quivering in the ground from where she used it to vault over the Templars. She pulled it out of the ground and returned it to the mount on her back. She then briefly wiped her blade on the sleeve of a downed Templar before moving forward to the Templars further into the camp. The blade in her hand was only twenty-eight inches, so it didn’t have the cumbersome nature of most longswords that were wielded one-handed by most warriors. But it made up for its size in the sharpness enhanced by the speed at which she was capable of bringing to bear.

She turned back to her compatriots and grimly said, “Let’s press forward, there are more up ahead.”

Cassandra watched her former apprentice cut through the Templars in seconds with a dual sense of horror and pride. She wasn’t sure which emotion she was more ashamed for. “Wow,” Lysette murmured as she stood beside the Seeker. Cassandra didn’t think Lysette intended that to be said aloud, so she ignored it.

“Let’s follow our Herald then, yes?” Cassandra intoned as Yasmin’s four compatriots trudged forward after their leader.


	12. Origin of the Seeker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin opens up about her dark origin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for discussion of rape and pregnancy as the result of it. YASMIN IS NOT THE VICTIM. Also a passing allusion to abortion if that's uncomfortable to read as well. Nothing is described though.

CHAPTER 12: The Herald’s Origin

“Is all of Val Royeaux so pretentious?” Varric asked as they crossed the bridge leading to the bazaar. They had just passed by a pair of giant statues in dedication to Andraste. By Solas’ count, it was the seventh such set of statures they’d walked by alone, no telling how many resided in the city proper in its entirety.

“Unfortunately yes,” Cassandra responded.

“I don’t know, I kinda like this addition to my outfit, pretentious or not,” Yasmin said with far too much enthusiasm for somebody who had spent the last week on horseback. The Herald of Andraste _twirled_, her new dark crimson cloak fit for the ravages of winter fanning out in her wake. Cassandra rolled her eyes at the childish, though endearing behaviour. Yasmin had to adjust how she slung her spear to her back, but she sorted things out to her satisfaction. The cloak did a nice job of hiding the sword resting perpendicular to her spine across the small of her back.

“It’s loud, and nearly unfit for stealth. It suits you,” Solas said. Yasmin responded with a mock bow, though the apostate took the ‘thank you’ as it was intended. “Though how you are not sweltering is beyond me.”

Yasmin shrugged. “I know how to disappear from sight. Whatever I’m wearing has no bearing on slipping past my enemy’s eyes. And the heat’s not so bad; a little sweat never hurt anyone. It’s you southerners that can’t stand it. Besides, when we return to Ferelden, it’ll serve its purpose much better, you know how much I hate the cold.” Solas nodded. She’d requested he walk near her while holding a flame in his hand for warmth multiple times on their journey to and from the Hinterlands.

The Herald turned to Lysette, “Are you from this place? I confess I’m not sure where your accent is from.”

Lysette perked up a little, being addressed directly and responded, “I’m actually Ferelden born. My parents were trade-folk in Denerim. When I joined the Templar Order, they sent me to Montsimmard. I picked up the accent there.”

“I thought you were just a recruit?” Solas asked the former Templar.

“The training takes many years, even before the introduction of lyrium. And I suppose I’m not the type that naturally keeps my original accent. I notice I sound more ah, Ferelden when I’m among family. It just sort of comes out again.” Lysette shrugged and looked a little nervous with everyone in the party paying attention to her at once.

“There is no shame in losing your original accent. I always thought it was a mark of adaptability,” Yasmin said. The Herald of Andraste was walking backwards again as she was talking to Lysette.

“You speak from experience, Herald?” Varric asked. Yasmin shot him a look of annoyance at the title. He gave her an innocent look back, the cheeky bastard.

“Yeah,” she said as she spun back around.

“What, you just gonna leave us hanging like that?” Varric replied with a chuckle. “You sound just as Starkhaven as Choir Boy, but with 100% less pompousness.”

“Who is…Choir Boy?” Cassandra asked, though she sounded almost reluctant to do so. Lysette was also interested as he was obviously referring to a devoted Andrastian.

“You actually might have met him, being a Seeker hailing from Starkhaven and all,” Varric said to Yasmin. “Does Prince Sebastian Vael ring any bells?”

Yasmin raised her eyebrows, but then chuckled darkly, “He doesn’t like me very much.” Yasmin grinned at his intrigued expression. “His support of the Templars and _from _the Templars is something I know of quite well, the zealot. Before the war he used them as his personal guard even though Starkhaven’s Circle was destroyed just after the Blight. King Vael didn’t appreciate me trimming the tree so to speak.”

“You killed his guards?” Varric asked, flabbergasted.

“Only the monsters among them,” Yasmin shrugged like killing the Templar guards of a head of the second-most powerful Free March Nation State was a small thing. “He didn’t interfere though, I was acting in official Seeker capacity, which is something he detested me for, but was powerless to stop.”

There was a long silence that followed that when Lysette spoke up, “The survivors from the Starkhaven Circle disaster ended up in Kirkwall right? It wasn’t an Annulment either; the Templars were caught in the blaze as well. Everyone at Kinloch was on edge about it when it was brought up, even over half a decade later.” Yasmin’s tone turned dark.

“They all died?” Solas asked, aghast.

“No, there were survivors, but it was still a catastrophe Starkhaven tried to keep as quiet as it could. With the Blight happening, they were mostly successful,” Yasmin responded. “I would’ve been fifteen I think? No, I was sixteen, because I remember my birthday gift was a great surprise that year. I was in elsewhere when that travesty happened. We heard about it though.”

“You don’t sound Rivaini, and you don’t look Starkhaven, where _are _you from?” Varric asked.

“I thought you were a resourceful man, Varric,” Yasmin chided idly. Varric rolled his eyes, and Cassandra smothered a smirk. Lysette and Solas exchanged a put-upon look.

“From what _I _hear, not even Nightingale knows all that much about you other than what you’ve told her,” Varric persisted.

Yasmin shrugged. She was wondering how much to tell them. Not everything for sure. Certainly not the Tranquil bit. Well, not yet at least, and she didn’t exactly trust them yet either. In Solas’ case, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever trust him. But Cassandra had assured Yasmin while enroute to the Hinterlands that her secrets would be kept. Yasmin was touched by Cassandra’s reassurance, even after she had the advisors sans Cullen take an oath. Varric was probably already writing his sequel to ‘Tale of the Champion’, so she wasn’t particularly inclined to trust him yet either; at least until she could ensure his discretion. He wasn’t a bad sort after all.

“Perhaps our resident Left Hand just hasn’t shared her findings with _you_. Lady Montilyet probably knows everything our spymaster does at the present time,” Yasmin said to the dwarf. “I gave Leliana more than information enough so that she’d know how to find out more about me and my past. It beats her having to harangue me about it when we return to Haven.”

“Harangue you?” Cassandra asked with a smirk.

“Interrogate,” Yasmin amended. “I was trying to be polite. We are in _Orlais _after all,” Yasmin replied with an eye roll.

Yasmin looked at the former Templar. Lysette hadn’t said anything either, and she doubted that Charter, especially while she was in Leliana’s service, would betray her trust. Leliana and Josephine were professionals if nothing else, so Yasmin wasn’t too concerned they would blab…unless she made good on her threat to leave the Inquisition if Cullen stayed. Then Leliana would probably leverage whatever was at her disposal to get her way.

Yasmin brought herself back to the conversation they were having. She shrugged. There wasn’t really much to hide about her early upbringing, so that was fine for them to know. “I’m sure our spymaster knows more about us than we’ll ever know. But very well.” Yasmin took a deep breath and stopped walking, forcing all of them to turn to give her their full attention.

Yasmin briefly glanced at Cassandra before saying, “Briefly; I am the bastard child of a Magister who raped my mother. She is a Dalish elf. She _was_ First of her Clan, before she was snatched up in Rivain by slavers a couple years before my birth. Her rest of the clan fled southward after they lost so many of their number during that raid.” At the horrified looks that statement got, she shrugged and continued, “I was born in Rivain a few months later, and spent my childhood around Dairsmuid until my mother went back to her clan. She sent me to the Chantry to become a Templar in Starkhaven. She’s still alive, far as I know.”

Lysette in particular looked sick, “She…she,”

“Yes?” Yasmin asked, though not unkindly.

“She kept the baby?” Varric whispered. Everyone else flinched at his bluntness.

Only Yasmin saw Lysette’s voice falter on the rest of her sentence, ‘She…she was _raped_?’

Yasmin gave Lysette a nearly imperceptible nod before addressing Varric; “Kept _me _you mean? I don’t know if it was by choice or my father found out and forced her to keep me when he found out. But yes, she ended up keeping me. I don’t know if that makes her a stronger or more moral person than me. I’ve never been impregnated against my will, so I can’t say for certain what I’d have done in her place,” Yasmin mused about her own existence. “She never resented me though, even if she had every reason to do so. My existence was the proof that her life had been irreparably destroyed. I never knew anything but love from her, and those first eight years were the best of my life.”

“She abandoned you to the Chantry?” Solas asked with poorly veiled anger.

“I look human–,” Yasmin said before Solas rudely cut her off with a question.

“Is that any excuse?” the horror in Solas’ voice made Yasmin very interested, but she just shook her head; question for another day.

“Not even a little bit. At least, that’s what I thought when I was younger, even until I was a already older than when my mother gave birth to me. Then I happened across the aftermath of what happens when shemlens see a human-looking child, a Halfling like me, living with a Dalish clan: dead, all of them. They were slaughtered. The shemlen who did the deed were all bragging about their great victory at the local pub, ‘drinks on the house,’ the bartender cheered. There wasn’t much of a bar left by morning, just a smoking horror. Tragic affair involving a drunk with matches and a bottle of Antiva’s finest doing a trick that went badly wrong.” If they had any reaction to Yasmin implying she _burned down a bar_ nobody said anything.

Yasmin was fiddling with the edge of her cloak, trying to keep her temper under control. “My mother was protecting me in the best way she knew how to. She ensured that the most ‘renowned’ warriors from the most powerful organization in Thedas took me in. She even paid a human tavern maid to walk me up to the Templars guarding the chantry to avoid any suspicions on my behalf,” Yasmin almost barked out, tone long since turned hostile. “Even if mother wanted to raise me alone much longer, how long do you think we would’ve lasted before some potentially well-meaning guard or soldier decided to take the human child back from the ‘dirty knife-ear’? An apostate ‘knife-ear’ at that. After all, everyone knows the Dalish steal shemlen children for blood-magic, right? We were already on _years _of borrowed time by the time we arrived in Starkhaven. Before any of you think you could’ve done better, my mum wasn’t even sixteen yet when she gave birth to me.” Yasmin spit out the last part even as her off-colour eye gleamed savagely even in daylight.

There was silence after that. None of them had heard the murderous intent in her voice, her posture, and her gestures like this before. It was frightening to the point where even Solas and Cassandra exchanged a worried glance. Yasmin reeled her emotions back in slowly. “On top of all that, Mum was smart. She left me in _Starkhaven_, the most devout of the Marcher States. My mum wasn’t an idiot. She ensured that I had every shemlen and Andrastian protection she could give me on my side; even though she couldn’t be the one to protect me herself. If that’s not love, I don’t know _what _is.”

The others had long since begun looking distressed as Yasmin’s origin seemed to poor out of her, “And so I was in Starkhaven, in the care of the Chantry training to become a Templar. I learned how to harness my grief in ways that made even the older boys wary of me. And that is where I caught the eye of a young and powerful Seeker of Truth who was passing through, who just so happened to be looking forward to taking on an apprentice, despite her relative youth. It was almost like providence,” Yasmin chuckled again, this time was far less dark though.

“I was still quite young then, and when the very tall and pretty lady said she wanted to look after me, teach me her ways; I jumped at the chance. I think I was nearly ten at the time. And so she brought me to her superiors, and checked in on me when she had the time, teaching me _all _the cool tricks.”

The companions were digesting this for a few minutes while Yasmin’s breathing fall back into a normal rhythm.

“Forgive me, but you don’t seem like the most _pious _sort,” Solas pointed out.

Yasmin gave a genuine laugh, a nice release from the dark tension that had been weighing her down the last few minutes, “I used to have faith; though not as strongly as those around me, and not in Andraste or either of her shitty husbands.” Cassandra bristled at that, but held her tongue. “My mother raised me teaching the stories of her people, that she remembered. She herself had long since felt abandoned by her gods, Mythal in particular. What kind of ‘Great Protector’ must Mythal must be if her faithful are enslaved, brutalized, and more often than not murdered on her watch.” Yasmin shook her head as if to ward away her dark thoughts.

“She didn’t make that choice for me though. She told me their stories, but didn’t present them as gods, but as flawed characters in an old story. The Dalish Pantheon is a big myth to me. Figures who probably lived before time was counted, and were beings of supreme power. I personally preferred Andruil; the Lady of Fortune and greatest hunter who ever lived. I don’t so much as worship her like I did when I was a child, but she still inspires me. What am I now if not a hunter of the wicked?” Yasmin got distracted as she mentally catalogued the names of the Dalish pantheon and arrived at Fen’Harel; the name in Solas’ head, tied to the image of him on the castle in the cloud cover. Yasmin jerked herself out of that thought. It was for another day. And she tried to remember were she was before she started spouting off about the Dalish gods. “Anyways, a little Andrastian chanting wasn’t going to get in the way of me getting stronger. It was the last thing my mother told me to do before I lost sight of her, to get stronger, to become stronger than she had been.”

Varric whistled, “Well, I think you got your wish there huh?”

Yasmin laughed a little and conceded, “Yeah, I really did. Took a very odd path to get there though.”

“How did…no, sorry, I shouldn’t ask,” Lysette cut herself off before she accidentally hurt the Herald.

“No, it’s alright, you can ask,” Yasmin said with a friendly smile. “It was all a long time ago, nearly twenty years since I joined the Chantry in Starkhaven.”

“Have you seen your mother since then?” Lysette asked very quietly.

“If it’s alright, I’d rather not discuss that just yet. We have an important day ahead of us, and I get _frightfully _emotional when I talk about it,” Yasmin replied after a moment of thought. Cassandra and Varric exchanged a dubious look behind Yasmin’s back while she patted Lysette who looked aghast at making the Herald sad. Yasmin just laughed at her look of horror. “Don’t worry, Lysette. I said you could ask after all. I’ll tell you at some point, but I need my head centred on my shoulders for the next few hours is all. This wasn’t a decline to answer indefinitely, just a postponement.”

“Was the Seeker who noticed you among the Templars you referred to our own Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast?” Solas asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Yasmin nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah it was!”

Cassandra just made an annoyed sound as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we not?” she asked.

In a remarkable swing of emotions, Yasmin laughed light-heartedly and punched Cassie’s shoulder; “You mean you _don’t _want me telling them about how you were back then? Remember you hair? It was so _luscious_ and _regal _when the wind wreathed it around you like a halo,” There was an almost foreign light of glee in Yasmin’s eyes as she teased Cassandra that the others hadn’t seen there before.

“Maker give me strength,” Cassandra muttered as she made a point of striding ahead of the rest of them, Yasmin’s cackling and snorting laughter lapped at her heels.


	13. Meeting Lucius Corin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party arrives in the Summer Bazaar

CHAPTER 13: Meeting Lucius Corin

There was a lull in their conversation as they approached the gates of the Bazaar. There an Inquisition scout greeted them and informed them that the Reverend Mother there was sewing a mob together to stand against the Inquisition. But when she mentioned Templars, Yasmin’s face lit up, darkly. “Oh? And they think they can stop us?”

“I’m not sure, Your Worship,” the scout replied.

Cassandra gave Yasmin a wary glance before addressing the scout. “Send a raven to Leliana in Haven, inform them of this. They should know we will likely be delayed, though I’m not particularly fearing for our safety.”

“Are we not worried about the Templars?” Varric asked nervously.

Yasmin turned and gave him a dark grin that unsettled the rest of the party as well, “Oh, they won’t be a problem for me.”

“Don’t start a bloodbath,” Cassandra almost pleaded as they neared the gathering crowd of people.

Yasmin shrugged and said, “I won’t if they don’t start it,” rolling her eyes while she said it. Cassandra let out an aggravated noise, but by then, the preachy reverend mother on the stage had noticed them. Lysette quickly muffled the giggle that threatened to break forth.

Varric and Solas broke off from the two Seekers. Varric, for a tactical position if things got ugly. Solas accompanied him because, “This is already hard enough without adding an apostate to the mix. Chantry folk are not known for their understanding, or mercy. Besides, if there are Templars lurking about, you should stay out of range of their powers,” Varric and Solas nodded their assent and adjusted their crossbow and staff respectively before heading up to the first balcony.

“If you look for Most Holy’s murderer, search no further,” her voice was shrill and full of contempt. The Cleric on the makeshift stage was whipping up the mob with an expert touch. There was a young Templar standing behind her off to the side. His features were contorted in clear discomfort at the proceedings. Yasmin caught his eye, but he quickly looked down and away.

“How far the Chantry has fallen,” Lysette murmured softly so only Cassandra and Yasmin could hear. The Herald rolled her eyes at Lysette’s wilful ignorance of the Chantry’s true face, but she had more important things to do than lecture the woman.

Yasmin glanced at the pissed off expression adorning Cassandra’s face before responding to the enraged cleric, “We came her to _talk_. If it has escaped your notice, the Breach is the greatest threat Thedas faces right now. The Inquisition is trying to close it, and we would very much like some allies in helping to save our world.”

“The Lady Andraste would never send a heretic such as you to be her Herald. Look! The Templars have returned to the Chantry, and will see that you pay for your crimes!”

Yasmin let out a gasp as she saw a man she hadn’t laid eyes on in over ten years, Lord Seeker Lucius Corin. “What is he doing here?” Yasmin whispered to Cassandra. The older Seeker just shook her head in confusion.

The Lord Seeker was leading about a dozen Templars. Tellingly, Lucius’ armour was not his normal Seeker regalia, but the armour of a Templar Knight-Commander. Yasmin pointed this out quietly to Lysette and Cassandra, neither of whom offered an answer. Cassandra’s scowl deepened though.

The archer-looking man following Lucius laid out the cleric with his fist. The young Templar apparently still aligned with the Chantry, who had been silent this whole time let out a cry of surprise, along with most of the assembled crowd.

“What kind of knight punches a defenceless old woman?” Yasmin shouted at him, mostly for the crowd’s benefit. Internally, she was jealous _she _wasn’t the one who swung that fist.

“The kind who knows her place is beneath mine,” Lucius growled before descending the stairs and walking off.

“That was a little rapey wasn’t it?” Yasmin asked her two companions loudly enough for some of the nobles nearby to hear her.

“Still yourself, she is beneath us,” the man who punched the cleric said as the young Templar _not _with the new ones moved to aid the elderly cleric.

“Well she is now you knocked her to the ground, you piece of shit,” Yasmin said.

The archer turned angrily to the Herald, but Cassandra shouted, “Lord Seeker! What is the meaning of this?”

“You will not address me,” Lucius responded without even turning to acknowledge his fellow Seeker and former subordinate.

Cassandra moved to follow Lucius, but Yasmin spotted weakness and pounced on it by grabbing the younger Templar’s arm. “I’m a Seeker of Truth and so is she, my name is Yasmin. _This _is not how we are supposed to conduct ourselves. Is _he _the man you want to be following right now?”

The young Templar couldn’t be much older than Lysette, he looked so conflicted, “My name is Delrin Barris. Are you truly the Herald?” Yasmin saw the desperation in his eyes. She knew he didn’t want to follow Lucius, but he felt compelled to.

“Whether or not I’m the Herald of Andraste shouldn’t factor in to who you follow. I was once told ‘you are who you follow,’” Yasmin paused as she glanced over to Lucius and Cassandra’s row. “If you choose to follow that _monster_, then there’s nothing further to be said. But know that there _is _another option that would at the very least be supported by the late Divine’s Right _and _Left hands. Is _that_,” Yasmin gestured to the bleeding cleric whimpering into the wood of the stage, “The kind of knight you want to become?”

Yasmin watched as the war for this young man’s allegiance warred on his face. She figured she had done what she could, and watched him slowly walk to stand next to one of the Templars and Lysette swore under her breath.

“We failed no one when we set out to purge the mages, the only destiny that deserves respect here is _mine_!” Lucius said.

“But what if she is Andraste’s Herald?” Delrin spoke up desperately.

“We all must know our duty. Yours is to not question,” the archer who punched the cleric silenced him rudely.

“Did you come here to just make speeches? Are you willing to gamble with the fate of Thedas rather than work with the Inquisition to heal the sky?” Yasmin asked Lucius with a surprisingly level voice.

Lucius looked over her briefly and laughed, “You are a heretic, and _you _have raised her up. I expected better from a Seeker of Truth, Pentaghast,” he said before he addressed his troops, “Templars with me, we march!”

Yasmin’s eyes widened at his last words and grabbed Cassandra, “He didn’t recognize me Cassie! Something is _wrong _with him.”

Cassandra looked from the retreating Templars back to Yasmin, “Do you think it’s merely been to long for him to recognize you?”

“He would definitely remember me, especially since he was there during my _situation_. Would _you _forget such a thing? The man I knew was certainly no simpleton,” Yasmin hissed quietly.

“I do not know what is going on, but this whole situation sets my teeth on edge. Most Holy would be disgusted if she could see the state of things now,” Cassandra lamented.

“Perhaps not _all _is lost,” Lysette spoke up quietly from behind them. The two Seekers turned towards the former Templar and saw as she pointed to something off to the side.

It was Delrin. He had stayed. Yasmin walked up to him with a beaming smile, “You came to your senses!”

“I…yes. I suppose I have,” Delrin said as he watched the last of his now former compatriots march across the bridge.

“Well that was informative,” Varric said as he and Solas walked up to them.

“I wouldn’t lose hope yet, there _must _be some of the order that don’t agree with the Lord Seeker,” Cassandra said. “You, young man, you’re one such Templar are you not?”

Delrin looked distinctly uncomfortable as he was analysed by their entire party, “I. I don’t think I’m one of them anymore Seeker. I’m sure you’re right, but the Lord Seeker holds much power over the order since the war started. We didn’t have anyone else to lead us, and I don’t know how many would oppose him directly.”

Yasmin nodded, “A fair assessment. But we should be getting back to Haven. The Templars’ hostility and obvious hatred for the Chantry changes little in the scheme of things. We _need _to close the Breach by any means necessary.”

Yasmin heard a whistle and dodged to her left and drew her sword. But it was unnecessary. She looked at where the arrow had landed and concluded it wasn’t meant to be a kill shot, and she _may _have overreacted. “What the hell?” she muttered as she read the attached message. “Who the fuck are the Friends of Red Jenny?”


	14. Into Darkness, Be Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin shows her dark side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin may very well become an iredeemable villain in your eyes in this chapter. If that's the case, I respect your feelings on the matter. 
> 
> TRIGGER warning for discussion of rape and rite of Tranquillity.
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to upload the previous chapter. I fixed it.

CHAPTER 14: Into Darkness, Unafraid

“Just say what!”

“What??”

An arrow was in the man’s mouth and out the back of his head before he could say anything else. Yasmin let out a surprised gasp. The cheeky girl actually did it.

“Eww. Rich tits always try for more than they deserve,” the blonde elven girl was muttering as she pulled the arrow through his skull. Yasmin’s eyes rose at probably the most _Denerim _accent she’d ever heard. “Aaand…you’re just plain really. You’re fit, and got some nice face carvings, but you’re just a person. You’re the Herald thingy right?”

“My name’s Yasmin, and yes, I’m the Herald’s thingy, pleased to meet you,” Yasmin stuck out her hand as the girl grinned at Yasmin’s joke. Cassandra made another disgusted noise and Solas looked ashamed to be in present company. Lysette covered her face to hide her embarrassment at Yasmin’s sense of humour. Ser Bariss was also failing to hide a blush at the sultry tone Yasmin had taken.

The elven girl took Yasmin’s hand and the Herald got a brief flash of dangerous and angry men with hands wreathed in lightning as they stalked towards her in an alley. There was a full tray of cookies that was thrown across the room as she let out an anguished scream. Yasmin shuddered, but was used to this kind of thing. Well, she pretended she was used to it. As a side-affect of her bond with the Spirit Empathy, she occasionally got flashbacks from the ‘louder thinkers.’ Not complete flashbacks unless she really tried though.

“My name’s Sera, this is cover, get ‘round it,” the tall city elf chirped.

“Expecting reinforcements?” Cassandra asked as she brought her hand back to her sword.

“Yeah, but the chambermaid tipped me the key to their inventory lock up,” Sera began to cackle as the noise of angry soldiers was upon them. “They’ve got no breeches!”

Yasmin had seen a lot of strange things in her travels across Thedas… naked Orlesian mercenaries running at her with full upper-body armour and their cocks out was something that would unfortunately be seared into her memory for a while.

Solas’ barrier immediately dropped over all of them, even Sera. Yasmin waltzed through the two fools that went after her before they could even launch an attack themselves. She decided to be merciful and avoided dismemberment, just landing a couple deft cuts to the throat. Cassandra shield-bashed one of them hard enough that his brain matter speckled the ground, and Sera put an arrow through each of the remaining mercenaries.

“So…that was traumatizing,” Yasmin muttered as Sera walked over to her victims to retrieve her arrows. “Can you tell me what you bring to the Inquisition if I let you join? You’re part of a spy network, right?”

“I’m no knifey shivdark like your personal spy king, or a noble like that prick over there,” she gestured with a blood-stained arrow to the dead noble who’s arrogance led him to an early death.

“I’m assuming you’ve got contacts in Denerim?” Yasmin replied. Sera’s flinch was visible to them all.

“One or two, yeah. There’s also a pair of brothers? Lovers? They’re something or other, in Starkhaven, a fence in Montfort, and guard in Kirkwall. We fight for the real people, when you all up there, nobles like, shove your cods in everyone’s faces.” Sera thought for a moment and said, “Though if you wanted to shove _you _codpiece in my face, I might make an exception,” Sera grinned as she unashamedly ran her eyes up and down over Yasmin’s figure.

Cassandra’s disgusted noise was joined by a similar sound from Solas and a deep laugh from Varric. “Please say we can keep her, if for nothing else because she drives the Seeker out of her mind.”

Yasmin chuckled and took a step towards the city elf. “I’ll take it slow on the codpiece bit if you don’t mind. Keeping my options open for the moment and all. The world’s a wee bit broken for me to be thinking of that right now. Besides,” Yasmin leaned down to whisper in Sera’s ear, “I’m not sure if you’d want this glowing beastie in your oven now would you?”

Sera was torn between arousal and horror; and judging by Yasmin’s smirk, that was the intended response. “Well, it ain’t on your bits though is it?”

“How did we get into this conversation?” Cassandra demanded as her cheeks were flushed from the embarrassing route this conversation had taken.

Yasmin laughed and looked Sera over. She was _different_ in a way Yasmin couldn’t quite quantify yet. But Varric was right. Sera would be worth having along to drive Cassie out of her mind. But Yasmin wasn’t an idiot ruled by her attractions either; sure, the blonde girl was pretty, and the gleam in her eye was something Yasmin could see herself seeking more and more of in the future; the young woman was also a prodigious shot. The ease and speed with which she casually sunk headshot after headshot was a level of skill many veteran archers twice the blonde’s age couldn’t match.

“Alright then lassie, welcome to the Inquisition,” Yasmin said with a smirk.

Sera’s responding shout of jubilation was surprisingly wholesome despite the positively sinful nature of their earlier exchange, “Yes! I won’t let you down Herald! This is gonna be grand.”

“You can either go to Haven at the foot of the Frostbacks on the Ferelden side, or stay with us while we sort out some more things here in Val Royeaux,” Yasmin said as she stooped to clean her blade on one of the dead men’s sleeves. She was frustrated with all this enclosed area combat, she wanted to let her spear out a little and impale a man once in a while.

“Erm, it depends on what you’re doing yeah? I know this city pretty well, where about is your Heraldy business?” Sera asked as she went around collecting the last of her arrows.

Yasmin took out a note they got from a noble in the square. “It looks like we’re going to a party. Possibly another recruit to add to the list. Sera, would you like to join me?” Everyone looked at Yasmin with varied expressions of surprise.

“Wot? You sure about that, Herald? I mean, I don’t usually turn down opportunities to piss off noble ponces, but if you need to recruit some proper ponce, you may want to take tall, dark, and smouldering,” Sera replied, pointedly looking at Cassandra. Yasmin laughed a little before shaking her head.

“Nah. You’re a part of this now, and I want to see how you handle yourself.” Yasmin shrugged at Cassandra’s look that said against all odds she was siding with the city elf on this one.

“This some sort of test of som’thin’?” Sera asked with more than a hint of annoyance.

“And you wouldn’t test some new initiate to your Red Jennies to ensure they were good for business?” Varric spoke up. Yasmin flashed him a grin.

Sera considered the dwarf’s words for a moment before rolling her eyes with a deliberately insolent sigh and said, “Like, a small burglary or what not. Sure, whatever. Alright, I’ll go to your prissy party.”

“May I go as well?” Lysette spoke up.

Everyone turned to her in varied states of surprise. “Oh, and why would you want to go to this gig?” Varric asked as he leaned against one of the crates splattered with mercenary blood.

“The note we got was from Madame de Fer. She may recognize me from the Circle in Montsimmard.” Yasmin gave her a quick nod.

Yasmin gave the elf a very quick and surprising hug. The flush on Sera’s skin went from her neck to the tips of her now noticeably pink ears. “Thank you Sera, I think it might be fun!”

One dead noble prick later

“What a terrible thing to say,” Lysette muttered as they ascended the stairs. Already, Vivienne’s servants (mostly elves) were cleaning up the corpse.

“Served him right,” Sera muttered. Yasmin put a comforting arm on her shoulder.

“You’re absolutely right,” Yasmin agreed.

“Apologies Seeker,” Madame Vivienne said to Yasmin first. “I’m terribly sorry for that my dears. Please believe me, that’s not the sort of talk I find acceptable in polite company,” Vivienne de Fer said to Sera and Lysette as she practically waltzed up the stairs. Though all three Inquisition noticed Vivienne’s eyes missed Sera’s, and looked over her head at Lysette despite the elf being the wounded party.

Yasmin regarded the mage with an edge of anger. She didn’t miss the insinuation that Vivienne really didn’t give a damn about her guest calling Sera a ‘knife-eared cock-sheath’. And that was after he also slandered Sister Nightingale and Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. There was no version of events where he left this place alive, after he was fool enough to say those things in front of Yasmin. If it weren’t Vivienne’s turning him into a malformed icicle, the Herald would’ve snapped the neck of the young lord herself…or Sera would’ve riddled him with arrows.

Not that Yasmin was surprised at the vulgarity on display in a place such as this. But she was certainly reconsidering her plans of adding this woman to the Inquisition regardless of her potential influence or rumoured skill.

“So, you’re the ah…sexual companion of this Lord Bastien?” Yasmin asked once they had relative privacy. Lysette and Sera had decided to return to the buffet when Vivienne asked for a _private _audience. The mage was obviously displeased Yasmin had the gall to bring guests with her. Yasmin actually suggested they walk along the hallway, to one of Vivienne’s private rooms. She wasn’t sure what this negotiation would entail, but she could sense that a shouting match would make the Inquisition, and her, look poorly in such company. And as much as Yasmin would probably enjoy at _least _slapping the silly masks off of all these Orlesian elite, she knew Josephine would bleed her for it later if she made a fracas.

“I’m his _mistress_, yes. You’re not one of the common rabble, you shouldn’t lower yourself to their level my dear,” Vivienne bit out. Yasmin gave her a saccharine smile in return.

It wasn’t that Yasmin frowned on trading sexual favours for safety from the Templars and confinement of the Circle. Vivienne decided to clarify her position, “I am the First Enchanter of Montsimmard. Defining me by my connection to Lord Bastien alone is beneath you, _my dear_.”

Yasmin _knew _that Vivienne would feel shame about her arrangement with the married Lord Bastien, even if their relationship had genuinely developed positively. Yasmin also knew that many in the court see her has nothing else than the noble’s mage plaything. Playing on Vivienne’s insecurity wasn’t a honourable tactic, but Yasmin had discarded such moral qualms long ago when dealing with people in power.

“And you seek to join my Inquisition. I’ve heard some things about you Madame de Fer. Is it true you are allied with the Templars against Grand Enchanter Fiona and the vast majority of the Mages of Southern Thedas?” Yasmin probed, dragging out the last bit unashamedly. She didn’t feel the need to hide her politics from Vivienne. The Enchanter would figure it out soon enough; better that Madame de Fer knows _now _exactly the kind of woman she’d be answering to if she signed on with the Inquisition.

Vivienne shook her head, “No. They are little more than mad dogs now. But I assure you the mages under my command are yet loyal to the Chantry, unlike Fiona’s whelps.”

“Well, we aren’t loyal to them. Or haven’t you heard? We are heretics, proclaimed so in the Summer Bazaar not two days ago,” Yasmin pointed out as she leaned against the window, still standing taller than the relatively tall mage. Though Yasmin had to give Vivienne credit where it was certainly due; that horned headdress the First Enchanter wore was almost arousing in its splendour.

“From what I understand, the Inquisition is trying to establish order. I stand with that ideal. The silly rebels valued their freedom so much they plunged our world into chaos for it. Surely as a Seeker of Truth, you can understand that need,” Vivienne almost growled. Yasmin regarded her, having made her decision.

“And who are you loyal to, First Enchanter?” Yasmin asked.

“The people of Thedas, of course,” Vivienne replied promptly.

“Oh? And what of the slaves? Your people?” Yasmin asked calmly.

“Slaves? Are you mad? Mages are not slaves! We enjoy food, shelter, and education,” Vivienne responded; for the first time, her voice got louder than her normal formal drawl.

“You aren’t paid, many of you have your souls muted, more of you are raped and otherwise violated by your precious protectors, and the _vast majority _of you are to never leave without being held down, head shaved, and Apostate brand pressed into your face upon your capture.” Yasmin said calmly…too calmly. She was wondering how far she would go with Vivienne. If recruiting her was worth what she was planning to do to the privileged mage. And if she went through with it, if she was just the like the monsters she hunted.

“Please,” Vivienne scoffed with faux amusement, “You clearly haven’t been to many Circles. Perhaps Kirkwall was the mess you describe, but the others are _sanctuaries _for our kind. Any worthy Seeker of Truth would know that,” Vivienne continued, unaware of the change in Yasmin’s demeanour from angry to a dangerously silent wrath. Vivienne ploughed on regardless, waving her hand around dismissively, “Only the weak and undisciplined are made Tranquil. And they are unrivalled workers who are practically destined to do what they do. They’re certainly no great loss to the Circles, after all, the Fromari are the best enchanters in all of Thedas, and they can only do so because they have been purged of their silly emotional predilections for mischief.”

“And what have you to say about the rapes that occurred on your watch, the children you made Tranquil?” Yasmin spoke coldly.

“Young Mages cry ‘rape!’ when they want attention, or seek to smear the Templars who dedicate their lives protect them. No Templars confessed to such a crime during my tenure in Montsimmard. So the silly accusers were dealt with. They served the circle as Tranquil from then on, or slain as the Apostates they became. Such a pity, one of them was only twelve, the silly girl. Such _wasted _potential.” Vivienne sneered. Yasmin took a deep breath as she steeled herself for what she felt her solemn duty directed her to do next.

“Firstly, the best enchanter in Thedas is the Arcanist Dagna, and secondly, let me show you the horror of the Circles you’ve revelled in. You irredeemable monster.” Yasmin was thankful they were in one of Vivienne’s private rooms with the door closed.

It might get loud.

Yasmin eventually intended to do inflict the same punishment upon Cullen as well, but Vivienne would do well to learn the plight of her _people_. What she was about to do next would be unforgivable to most in her party, if not all. Even she nearly vomited with revulsion; but she had a calling to make people empathize…’and how was empathy, _true _empathy possible without the experience required?’ Yasmin thought as she drew on the spirit deep within her.

Before Vivienne could move or cast a spell, she felt Seeker Yasmin’s finger on her forehead, and then everything went black…and then she deliriously began to beg for mercy.

Vivienne sank into Yasmin’s outstretched arms and was swiftly deposited on the luxurious sofa. There was no mark on the Enchanter’s forehead; Yasmin had limits to her cruel method of teaching. She’d _never _invoke the Rite of Tranquillity.

But short of that, there was little she would not do to even the scales with those she felt earned it. Those who _failed _to _empathize _with their _victims_, and who gleefully flaunted their power over those who could not protect themselves like Vivienne had been doing for years.

Yasmin’s research had been thorough once she received an answering raven from both Josephine and Leliana describing in detail Vivienne de Fer’s iron grip on the mages of Montsimmard.

Vivienne was _liberal _in her choice to inflict the Rite of Tranquillity on those who did not meet her steep expectations. Under her tenure, there had not been a _single _instance where Templars were held at fault or even questioned for events that led to a mage inflicting damage in what their hearing they testified as either self-dense or revenge for either themselves or their friends being violated.

Yasmin would show an equal amount of mercy to Vivienne as she had shown to the dozen or so teenage girls and boys she had made Tranquil. Yasmin’s special brand of powers as a Seeker and her status as the symbiotic host of a powerful Empathy spirit allowed her to retain the memories of those she’s touched. And during her time travelling from circle to circle destroying Phylacteries, she had gathered quite the archive of horrific memories involving Templar on Mage abuse.

Yasmin strode to the curtains, tore a small strip from the bottom, forming a makeshift gag for the mage as she begun to convulse on sofa. Vivienne’s screams were muffled for the duration of her inflicted seizure cause by the foreign memories Yasmin forced her to live. Yasmin tried to not hate herself for the tears that coursed down the whimpering mage’s cheeks. She sat down in the chair next to her and waited.


	15. A Fractured Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Haven, Leliana and Josephine discuss their potential replacements for Cullen on Yasmin's request.

CHAPTER 15: A Fractured Mask

“You realise how much of a headache this has been, yes? You come to me and ask me to prepare these overtures behind our commander’s back? What is going on Leliana?” Josephine asked with her hands steepled in front of her, giving Leliana quite the reproachful glare. It was a power pose that she knew Leliana favoured as well when the occasion allowed her a desk.

“Our Herald raised some concerns–,”

“Concerns that are perfectly legitimate, but we can’t afford to be _fragile _right now,” Josephine pointed out. Leliana raised an eyebrow. “But I see your point. And your arguments were persuasive.”

“I assume you’ve sent the letters,” Leliana responded while ignoring Josephine’s concern.

“Of course I have. Do you have a preference? I mean, I know one of them, well…” Josephine trailed off as she let out a weary sigh.

“Is a former adversary of mine?” Leliana smirked. “Please, if I never learned to work with people I have ah, interesting history with, you and I wouldn’t even be working together now, no?”

“Leliana!” Josephine hissed as she failed to restrain a rare blush. She was thankful for her darker skin, for exactly situations like these, but she knew Leliana wasn’t fooled for a moment.

“What? I’m just saying that there are levels of comfort with certain people from my past. On one end of the scale was Marjolaine, on the other is you.” Leliana didn’t even flinch while speaking of the woman who had broken her trust in people. Josephine noticed this and smiled.

“So what your saying is that us former associates of yours are either lovers you avenge yourself upon and lovers who you hire to run a crusade?” Josephine was the one smirking now.

“Well. No. Unfortunately. Though with _this _one,” Leliana says as she nudges the copy of the letter they sent to their candidate from Cullen’s replacement, “Isn’t a former lover. Though I will admit Kallian and I certainly considered seducing her into our bed for a spot of fun once upon a time on account of her having a conscience…and other things.”

“Was this before or after she threw the Hero in the dungeon?” Josephine asked, genuinely intrigued.

“After Morrigan and I saved her. Well, Kallian initially flirted with her before the battle of Ostagar, but that obviously didn’t work out. And then she met me,” Leliana’s smile was more than a little smug now. “But after Ser Cauthrien defeated Kallian in combat, well I can’t blame my wife for having a wandering eye in that situation. It certainly helped that she made certain threats to ensure the guards leave Kallian well alone despite being enemies at the time.”

“Truly?” Josephine asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with wandering eyes Josie, so long as our hearts remain intertwined, and they most certainly are. And Ser Cauthrien is quite the specimen,” Leliana’s lecherous tone was _not _what Josephine was expecting when she walked into this _very serious_ conversation regarding replacing their Commander behind his back.

“And our second candidate? What of Guard-Captain Aveline Vallen of Kirkwall? Does she meet you ah, _standards_ Leliana?” Josephine was _mostly _joking.

Leliana let out a small laugh, “Oh, she’s quite beautiful too. Though I see complications asking her away from Kirkwall. Also, she might kill Cassandra, or visa versa, and while it would be _intriguing _to find out who would win in a contest of arms…we cannot afford that right now.”

“Oh, is that your only concern?” Josephine rolled her eyes.

Leliana just shrugged, almost playfully, before some of the mirth left her eyes. “In all seriousness, I do worry she and Cassandra would clash over our resident Seeker’s treatment of Varric. They were not gentle with him, and he has not fully recovered from it.”

Josephine’s brow furrowed as she processed Leliana’s implications. “I did not notice any obvious signs of injury.”

“Neither have I, at least not since before everything fell apart. But his mental state isn’t that hard to pick up on, especially in her presence. He still flinches when she enters his vicinity much of the time. She and the other Seekers traumatised him during their interrogation to find Hawke. But that’s not what this conversation is about.”

“You truly believe Aveline won’t be able to put aside her anger for Cassandra?” Josephine asked. “Would it be a bad idea to summon both of them here?” Josephine wondered aloud.

“It would be worth a try, but for all we know they might refuse. We should get a reply before the Herald and the rest of them return from their mission in Val Royeaux,” Leliana paused. “I wouldn’t count on her recruiting Vivienne de Fer. After what we found out about her, and then sent to inform her encounter with the former First Enchanter, I wouldn’t be surprised if we hear word of Madame Vivienne’s untimely and likely horrific death.” Leliana could’ve sounded a little more upset about that possibility, but she didn’t feel like lying to Josephine.

“You really think her so brash?” Josephine asked, all mirth gone from her eyes. She was remembering the way Yasmin had so _casually _slaughtered the Templars who tried to hurt her. Josephine was ashamed to admit it had given her nightmares like she hadn’t had since she had unknowingly killed her friend during her ill-advised jaunt as a Bard.

“She scares you,” Leliana surmised softly.

“No! She, it’s just…” Josephine tried to deny it but shook her head. “I don’t know. On one hand, it’s obvious she’s dedicated to the cause. She’s no prisoner being lead around by the nose anymore, if indeed she ever was. Her good works in the Hinterlands may prove vital. Though I fear she may need to return there. The enclave of Apostates evaded them before they had to away to Val Royeaux, and while she and Cassandra may have to return to deal with the apostates, her eradication of the rogue Templars undoubtedly stabilised the region for the moment.” Josephine paused.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Leliana pointed out. “Her calculated violence against our enemies in the Hinterlands doesn’t change how she made you feel in that room though does it? She may help the widow with her husband’s stolen ring, or leading home a wayward druffalo. But you can’t forget way those Templars were screaming, squirming on the ground,–”

“Leliana,” Josephine pleaded softly. Leliana voice had become more detached in this moment than Josephine had heard in a long while.

Leliana blinked and chastised herself for accidentally letting out her more callous side. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to goad you, or hurt you like I obviously have. I forgot myself,” Leliana said softly.

Josephine gave her old friend a sad look. ‘_I forgot myself.’ _Josephine could read between the lines; Leliana was so used to talking to herself alone, or to her agents, that she had begun to slip when muting that darkness in her that being the Left Hand transformed from a pond into a great reservoir. She didn’t really know how to talk to ‘normal’ people anymore without the evil of the Bard creeping through the cracks.

“It’s alright. I’ll survive,” Josephine replied with more than a hint of weariness. “Yasmin does scare me. But I also believe Andraste sent her. Paradoxical, isn’t it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with paradoxes; especially when it is your feelings that are the subject.” Leliana paused before softly asking, “What do you think of her beyond her penchant for ruthless violence?” Leliana asked.

The wording of that stopped Josephine cold. Leliana’s tone was _not _the kind of tone she’d be taking if she was talking about the Herald. Leliana would sound matter of fact, perhaps even slipping in a joke or two. Leliana’s question was soft…and…Joephine nearly gasped as she realised the question Leliana’s heart was _really _asking. “Leliana,” Josephine said as she placed her hand on top of Leliana’s too pale one. “Are you sure we’re still talking about Yasmin?”

Leliana’s brief look of realisation and horror disappeared behind her well trained Bard mask. Josephine chased the look though, “Leliana, answer me.”

“Of course!” Leliana replied curtly. Josephine squeezed her friend’s hand as she thought about what to say next.

They were in the war room, luckily, so there was a compliment of pastries they had managed to procure from Val Chevin that morning. Josephine walked over and grabbed a pain au chocolat (the late Justinia V’s favourite) and walked back to where her brooding friend was sitting. She split it, and thrust half of it into Leliana’s hand. Leliana was torn between bemused and guarded. “Leliana. You know I love you right? There is nothing you have done in the past, nothing that was done _to you _in the past, which would make me turn from your side. Even though you’re sometimes scary, and a ruthless killer by necessity, you’re still my best friend, and I love you. I just thought you needed to hear that while your wife is not hear to tell you the same thing.”

Despite the bard’s resistance, Leliana’s eyes glistened, and her lip wobbled before she smothered by the pain au chocolat she stuffed in her mouth to cover the sound of her choked sob. But all that did was summon memories she had long since thought buried; waking up in a chantry. Dorothea, the voice that gave her the lock picks to escape from the soul-ruining horrors she experienced as a captive in Raleigh’s dungeon.

The future Divine had walked over to the bed Leliana had been recovering on, holding a small platter of the same pastry now in her mouth with kind words of comfort and faith in her character on her lips; just as Josie was doing now. Josephine’s face replaced Dorothea’s in Leliana’s mind as the red head returned to the present.

“Leliana, do you _hear_ me?” Josephine intoned as she cupped the redhead’s cheeks. For just a moment, Josephine could see the vulnerable young woman Leliana used to be. Scared for entirely different reasons now, but it was there. And then Leliana recovered herself.

“I hear you Josie,” Leliana whispered.


	16. Namathari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new character takes the spotlight for the moment.

CHAPTER 16: Namathari

The sun was low in the sky as a Dalish elf sat drinking in a tavern. As far as second-rate taverns went, Val Royeaux’s ‘Coq D’or’ was especially dour. It was near the edge of the city, and attracted a variety of foreigners. Namathari fiddled with her ‘bow’, which was slung around her back. Her quiver was slung to her belt as a sword might be rather than her back. She legitimately believed she was a quicker shot that way.

She also happened to be an elf, so the looks she was getting from the men in the tavern set her teeth on edge. She wasn’t wearing her traditional Dalish robes and armour, but the Vallaslin on her face was proof enough of her heritage. Her dark green and distinctly human roguish traveller outfit was armoured enough for her tastes though.

Namathari, who was sitting in a corner facing the door from the opposite side of the room, downed the last of her pint as she waited for Stitches to finish talking to their contact, the short waif of a bartender. The Chief had asked her and Stitches to come here together while some of the others finished a job in a chateau to the north; the rest of the Chargers were back at the inn. They’d be heading out to the Storm Coast in a couple days; the Lieutenant had already ridden for Haven to make inquiries of the Inquisition. Namathari shook her head in thought; there was an honest to Andruil _Inquisition_. Things were changing in Thedas, and everyone knew it. Ten years ago, the bloody _Blight _decimated Ferelden. A _teenage elven girl _from the Alienage in Denerim faced down the Archdemon and saved Thedas. And then the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall happened, the Champion Marian Hawke was named, and she stopped the attempted annulment of its Circle of Magi. The Templar-Mage war now raged across all of southern Thedas. And in the midst of it all, a new force for change with apparent Divine providence led by Andraste’s Herald.

Namathari was glad sometimes that she was just a mercenary. She didn’t have to think about all the political garbage, well…that was a lie and she knew it. But sometimes she _wished _she didn’t have to think about it. As an Elven Mage, no…_apostate_ in the eyes of the Chantry; her existence _was _political.

Namathari was really only here in this poorly attended tavern because Grim had twisted his ankle badly enough walking on the fucking cobblestones that he was at the inn resting. What an idiot; nice, but _how _did he fail at _walking_? Namathari was the unlucky sod that the Chief told to cover for the nonverbal shemlen. It wasn’t that Namathari was exactly angry at either Grim or the Chief; but she sure wished he had assigned Rocky or one of the others instead. Namathari didn’t get enough private time with her woman as it was.

A curt voice speaking common with a heavy Orlesian accent brings Namathari out of her thoughts with a snap, “You’re gonna have to slow down eventually, Templar. I doubt the Chantry pays you well enough for your weight in drinks anymore now that everything’s fallen apart.” The barkeep pushed her hair out of her face as she finished speaking to the tall figure that was hidden from Namathari’s view.

The figure the barkeep was talking to didn’t say anything, but Namathari could see their gloved hand reach out and form a very rude gesture. _Templar_, Namathari thought as a stone of dread dropped into her stomach. _Fuck. _She was in a room with a shitfaced Templar. She could see the Templar had a helmet on, and her elven ears picked up the sound of a sheathed sword scraping on the bar stool as they moved to make the gesture at the barkeep.

One of the things that being a mercenary helped with was deterring Templars. Even on the rare occasion when she exposed herself as a mage, a lone Templar or even a pair of Templars weren’t particularly keen on fighting their way through nearly a dozen armed assailants to capture or kill her. Especially when one of them was a furious seven foot tall wall of muscle wielding an axe as tall as the Templars themselves were.

Now? She was alone, mostly. The rest of her company weren’t _too _far away, but far _enough _away that she’d be fucked if the Templar managed a Holy Smite. She felt one of those once, and if Krem hadn’t been there with his shield, she would’ve been cut down, even as she was convulsing on the ground while puking up her stomach as the mana was _ripped out of her_.

She’d be helpless and vulnerable, and whatever the Templar decided to do, Namathari knew that she’d never see her friends again. She’d never see her beloved again either; and the thought of _that_ as a possible outcome of the situation the young Dalish elf found herself in dumped ice-water into her veins. Thankfully, Stitches was done with their business and he walked over, “We’ve got the payment. Back to the Inn or another pint?”

“Let’s leave after finishing our drinks we have right now. It would look odd if we just booked it with three-quarter full pints of ale,” Namathari replied quietly. She cast her gaze around the room, and realised more than one pair of shemlen eyes were focused on her; she shivered at their looks, both lecherous and disgusted in turn.

The bartender rolled her eyes as she was still talking to the Templar. Though she acquiesced a little bit. Still speaking to the Templar, she said, “Here. And that’s _it _for you. Sleep it off, pray it off, whatever you mage-hunters do,” the barkeep muttered with a hint of malice. The Templar, who was still blocked from Namathari’s view must’ve given some form of assent since the barkeep walked away from them to clean some mugs and pitchers.

After Namathari and Stiches finished their respective drinks, they brought up the epty mugs to the barkeep. “Thank you, _mon Cherie. _My name is Cynthia if you need anything further. And you as well sir.” Namathari gave her a small smile and a nod. “I don’t see many ah, _Dalish _come through here. What brings you to Val Royeaux?”

“Just passing through. I’ve never been to the city before from the inside. It’s quite beautiful,” the elf responded softly. Her voice was deep despite her young age and stature. Her accent was indicative of her upbringing by the Dalish elves, even if her vallaslin didn’t immediately give her away. The way the barkeep kept looking at her made Namathari uncomfortable. Not that the barkeep was leering at her or looking at her like _how dare an elf_ visit her establishment. No. It was the softness in her eyes. Namathari just had no idea what do with that. It was foreign to her, coming from a shemlen. Once she let the thought sit for a moment, Namathari thought Cynthia was nice.

Namathari looked over at the Templar; they were tall, taller than Stitches, and they were looking at her, to her quiet horror. The Templar made to get up, their stool scraping against the wooden planks that made up the floor of the tavern. But before they could do much more than that, the door opened. A raucous laughter filled the tavern as _five more_ Templars walked in, clearly already in their cups.

Namathari did all she could not to sink to her knees in terror. One Templar was bad enough; _six _of them were enough to make even the Chief think twice about a confrontation. The young mage did her best to control her breathing while they went over to where the sitting Templar was. Stitches echoed Namathari’s inner voice when he sighed, “Oh fuck.” The Templars were situated between them and the door.

The tallest of the bunch, a blond, started speaking to the Templar in Orlesian, but quickly switched to Common after they shook their head. “I’m Jacque, and you’re a bit far from your post aren’t you?” His accent was lighter than Cynthia’s; he’d doubtlessly been assigned elsewhere over the years of his service to the Chantry.

The first Templar spoke up for the first time, and Namathari was slightly surprised to notice she was a woman; from Starkhaven no less.

“My post? No. No, I was on my way to the White Spire. Transfer from Ferelden,” she said with only minimally slurred cadence. Namathari was surprised that she recognized the female Templar’s accent instantly. _Starkhaven_, the most pious City-State in the Free Marches. The revelation did _not _make the apostate feel much better at all.

“You don’t sound Ferelden,” one of the others spoke up. He had a distinctly pockmarked face with a couple scars as well marring his once handsome features; not that Namathari was the best at picking out handsome men.

The Starkhaven woman let out a chuckle, “Shite, of course not. But seeing as Kirkwall’s fucked, and the Circle in my city is being rebuilt, Ferelden is where I’ve come from today. Andraste’s tits man, can’t a lass enjoy a pint without spilling her fucking life story?” Namathari couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at the other woman’s rampant profanity. She’d not met many Templars thankfully, but she always imagined them as less _crass_; at least among each other.

“You’ve got a mouth on you that’s for sure, but we’re all friends here,” Jacques said with a grin. One of others, a brown haired man almost as tall as the Chief muttered a sentence in Orlesian that had two of the others laughing. Jacques ran a hand through his blonde mop of hair and rolled his eyes.

“Well…” the Starkhaven Templar said slowly, “I was just finishing up, but I’ll sit for a pint with you lot.” The other Templars sat down. “How go things in this part of the world?”

“The Lord Seeker is going to set things right,” the biggest man spoke up. Namathari couldn’t help but feel a primal shiver of fear as she looked upon him. He was at least a foot taller than her, and he could probably out-muscle the Chief. “He left us to round up the rest of the Templars in the city before marching out. Not all of us were in the Summer Bazaar when that Heretic whore addressed the grand cleric.”

“Well I suppose you found me. Where is our Lord Seeker Lucius taking us then?” the Starkhaven Templar replied.

The blond Templar lowered his voice, but Namathari’s elven ears caught his words without difficulty, “Therinfal Redoubt. We’re to re-assemble in the Seeker stronghold of old.”

“Isn’t that place a ruin? I’ve heard legends about that keep, but that was when I was in training in Starkhaven,” she replied.

“True, but the Lord Seeker has a plan. And with the lot of the Apostates gathering in Redcliffe, I think he’s preparing us for a final assault to cleanse their stain from Thedas for good,” the tank replied with a gleeful grin that looked strange on his rugged face.

The Starkhaven Templar nodded and spent the next few moments finishing the pint Cynthia had placed in front of her. She had moved over when some of the others sat next to her, and Namathari could see her eyes now. Or, eye. Even beneath the helmet, she saw one eye was covered. She had dark skin and hair; but that was all Namathari could make out from beneath the woman’s helm.

Stitches had a pint too. With all the Templars in the room, he figured he shouldn’t stick out or worse, draw attention to his comrade. But it was for naught, since one of the Templars silent thus far noticed the odd one out. “Is that a knife-ear?”

Namathari stiffened, as did Stitches. The Starkhaven woman and Jacque both looked up at them, previously not paying them any mind. The company’s healer stood up and stared down the Templar who had spoken. Namathari decided to call him Pimples. Pimples rose to his feet and towered over the company’s healer. Stitches was a good man, but he wasn’t a fighter like the rest of them; Namathari was cold with fear. The others stopped their idle conversations and looked to Namathari as well. “Am I not allowed in this establishment?” Namathari asked Cynthia pointedly. Cynthia was looking Pimples with hatred in her eyes.

“Of course you are. Ser, there is no need for such talk. This is a civilized establishment,” Cynthia said heatedly.

“Shut your mouth,” Pimples replied with a dismissive gesture towards the defensive barkeep.

Before Cynthia could respond in kind, another voice cut her off, “Gentlemen,” the Starkhaven Templar said, “There’s really no need to start a fight in here. The girl’s not worth having the Guard called on us.”

“The Guard?” the Tank scoffed. “What are they going to do? We’re Templars. They have no hold over us, for we do the Maker’s work.”

“They have sharp swords, you cantankerous bastard,” the Starkhaven Templar replied to her colleague with a dark chuckle.

“Look, we’ll just leave. There’s no need for unpleasantness,” Namathari said quietly yet firmly. She pulled Stitches’ sleeve as she tried to maneuverer around the group of racist Templars.

Alas, they blocked the way. The _other _customers made the smart choice to flee. They might agree with the Templars concerning the place of elves, but nobody really wanted to be too close if the Templars pulled out their swords. A couple of the Templars took notice and _laughed_. Namathari’s quiet terror was starting to affect some of the objects around her subtly; the barstools and mugs both trembled.

“Calm down,” Stitches breathed. Louder he says, “What is this? Is this how the Templar order conducts itself now? Accosting people in taverns?”

“Well, when one of them is obviously an apostate, yes,” their leader, Jacques responded with his hands on his hips, as if he were chastising a child.

“I’m not an apostate!” Namathari replied vehemently despite the blood rapidly leaving her face. “This is a bow! You can obviously see the string, here!” She said as she gave it a twang for emphasis.

The female Templar spoke up, “I think what blondie here is pointing out is the lyrium shard embedded in it. It’s painted green, clever, but lyrium is lyrium. As far as I understand, that’s not normal archery practice, not even among the Dalish clans.”

Namathari looked at the female Templar, or at least at her helmeted face in fear. The Starkhaven lilt didn’t soften her words cutting down Namathari’s protests. She turned to her taller colleague and said, “How do you gents plan on handling _this_ one?”

“Well, we figured we’d take our time with the knife-eared apostate, and probably just kill the other guy,” Jacques responded with a shrug.

“You _heathens!_” Cynthia spat at the man who towered over her.

The Starkhaven Templar shook her head. “No need to dirty this place with apostate blood. I’ll take her out back in the alley, and deal with her there. You all should keep an eye out for the guard, one of the other patrons may have run to get them.”

“Oh? You’re a dirty one aren’t you? _You _want the knife-ear all to yourself? ” Pimples asked with a laugh.

“No I don’t. But I won’t let any of you touch her like that either, I’m not a _total _monster. the Starkhaven woman sneered up at the ugly man. Pimples looked like he was going to argue before he noticed his female colleague suddenly had a dagger in her hand that was awfully close to his groin. _When did that happen?_ he asked himself. “Besides,” the woman continued as she walked slowly around the bar to stand not two feet away from the two mercenaries, “Even a filthy apostate like you doesn’t deserve to die on her hands and knees. I won’t smite you if you don’t make me, elf.” Stitches trembled with rage as he looked up at the woman who stood almost half a head taller than him, peering down at him with one eye. “I don’t think I need to threaten your _friend _here to get you to come quietly, right lassie?”

“You _cunt!”_ Stitches roared in anger before Namathari laid a hand on his arm. She knew there was no way out of this. She and Stiches could fight, sure. She would get out a couple spells, maybe even kill or maim a couple of them before they smite her magic and left her gagging on the floor in convulsions. Then they would kill Stitches, and she could tell they wouldn’t be quick or honourable with him. The Chargers _needed _Stiches, and he was one of her best friends. Being _directly responsible _for his death wasn’t a path she was willing to entertain.

Jacques let out a laugh, “Okay. Starkhaven here deal with the apostate then, since you’re so keen on in. We’ll wait for you out front. No complaints, we have better things to do,” he snapped at the men in his company who looked as if they’d been robbed of some sort of _prize_.

“No need to wait up for me, I’ll meet you at the Spire. I’ve got a couple errands to see to before marching with you lot to fucking Ferelden again.” Jacques nodded his agreement. ‘Starkhaven’ turned back to Stitches and _grinned_, “Well, you should walk out first then right?” Starkhaven said to Stitches. “You’re done here, don’t be a pillock, live to fight another day. My _friends _here won’t hurt you, since you’re clearly not an apostate. But don’t test our patience. Go. Now.” She glared at Jacques and he nodded, agreeing with her mercy for the unfortunate medicine man. “It would be a waste to spill clean blood like yours,” she continued with a sneer.

During all of this, Namathari didn’t feel the rage she probably should have felt. She just felt numb. A simple information exchange would now end in her being gutted in an alley like a fish. It was a mercy the woman Templar had a _semblance _of decency about her, but it was clear in the way she spoke that she was just as eager for blood as the rest of them. “Stiches,” Namathari said quietly. “Please go. Just go, _run_. Tell…tell _her _I…I wish we had more time together,” the elf said sadly. Tears were forming in her eyes.

“Dalish, I–,” Stitches’ eyes were wide with fear, and anger, and sadness, and he was in near physical pain with what he was being asked to do; leave his friend to die.

The elf grabbed his face in both hands to make sure he was looking into her eyes as she said, “Losing _both _of us would be a catastrophe to the others and you know it. Just go, _please. _Erik, make this worthwhile.”

Namathari used Stitches’ proper name, and that’s what broke him.

Tears ran down his face and sensing the moment, she shoved him away from her lightly. He stepped back to her, and pulled her into a fierce hug and barely whispered in her ear, “We’ll avenge you, I _swear_.”

Namathari smiled into his shoulder and nodded her head as much as she was able. Stitches pulled away and swiftly turned on his heel and left the tavern out the front door. “You will honour the deal I just made, none of you will pursue him. I will join you shortly, and we will then march to Therinfal,” Starkhaven said in a tone that _dared_ argument to rise up.

“Why not, he’s just one man?” Pimples asked flippantly. Namathari stiffened. _If they so much as–_

“Because in Starkhaven, Templars had something we called _honour_. And I will not allow you to make me a liar, _Orlesian_.” Starkhaven growled.

“Point made, woman, take the knife-ear out back and we’ll meet you at the Spire, sound good, _non_?” Jacques said with a placating arm on Pimples’ shoulder. The other men seemed willing enough to listen to their leader, so Starkhaven nodded to them and picked up Namathari’s ‘bow’ and prodded her with it towards the back exit.

“Andraste would spit on you!” Cynthia yelled at them as both parties made to leave.

The men ignored her except to laugh and return profanity in Orlesian. Starkhaven just let out a dark chuckle, “Don’t worry about us Miss. We do the Maker’s work, I’m pretty sure we’re covered on that front.”

With that, the Templar shoved Namathari out of sight out into the back alley. It was a wide enough alley for three broad men to stand level with each other.

There was a moment of silence as they could both make out the other Templars exiting the small establishment in the opposite direction. “Dalish? Is that what you’re called?” The Templar asked with a chuckle. The dagger she had drawn on her comrade was pressed against the part where her spine met her brain; there was no running from this woman, and the elf knew it.

“What’s it to you _shemlen_?” Namathari hissed back. She was going to die. Politeness didn’t matter much anymore.

“Oh, I just thought it was odd is all. You see, I’ve never met an elf called ‘Dalish’ before. And seeing as you’re obviously well, _Dalish_, it just seemed redundant,” the Templar mused.

“Thanks for saving me from those men. I suppose I owe you that at least,” Namathari gritted out.

“Not at all love, I don’t abide violence of _that _kind. I _am _an honourable woman after all.” There was a pause before Starkhaven continued; “I’d never forgive myself if I allowed that to happen to you.” The woman’s voice hardened, and for the first time sounded deadly serious.

Expecting the killing blow, Namathari tensed up. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Just get it over with,” Namathari replied while her courage still had a voice. She flinched at the audible tremor in her words. No doubt the Templar heard her _weakness_. The woman just laughed.

“I’m waiting for the Templars to get far enough away of course,” came the reply.

_WHAT? _

“I’m sorry?” Namathari asked even as she felt the blade lift from her neck.

Namathari felt herself spun around gently by deft hands, and saw the Templar sheathing her dagger. “Relax, I’m not going to kill you. I just wanted the Templars to think I was, so there wouldn’t be a pile of corpses in poor little Cynthia’s tavern. It would cripple her business I think. And just _think _of all that blood she’d have to clean out of the floorboards. Nobody has time for that shite.”

Namathari was hearing the woman in front of her speak, but the words were just _not _connecting properly. “I don’t understand. Can you explain?”

The woman laughed, cackled more like, and said, “I’m not a Templar, and I have no problem with elves. In a few minutes I’m going to let you run free to your mercenary company, Iron Bull’s Chargers right?”

“What the fuck?” Namathari gasped as the fear-fuelled adrenaline began to leave her system.

“Okay. I think I’ll accompany you back to your people since you’re a bit out of it right now yeah? My name’s Yasmin by the way, you may have heard of me,” Yasmin said as she removed her helm, ebony mane unspooling about her shoulders. She moved the band around her head back up to her forehead, revealing a warm emerald and gold eye piercing Namathari’s. “You’re gonna be alright, ‘cause I’m here.”

Namathari was met with a warm smile gracing the face of her apparent saviour. “Mythal’s grace, are you for real?”

“Andraste’s tits, I’m getting a little worried now, are you alright there Dalish?” Yasmin said as the elf in front of her damn near _swayed _on her feet. Yasmin could smell the alcohol on the girl’s breath, and figured that combined with the extremely stressful situation she had landed in was just too much for the young woman to handle.

Before ‘Dalish’ could respond, there was an angry roar from the mouth of the alley.

“You BITCH!” it was Jacques…and all the other Templars.

“_Dread Wolf take you_,” Yasmin breathed in elven as she turned to face him. Thankfully they hadn’t thought ahead to flank them from both sides. The unexpected elven words seemed to bring some awareness and shock to the Dalish elf.

“You cunt. You talk of honour, and you consort with that fucking apostate! I will _not _be made a fool of, Starkhaven bitch!” Jacques yelled as he and the four others with him drew their swords. “You’re not even a fucking Templar are you, you probably _murdered _one of us and took their armour.” Yasmin considered refuting that claim but shrugged instead.

She had hoped to avoid the bloodshed. She knew that Lysette would be displeased about what was about to go down. She was going to have to explain to the younger woman why her armour was tainted red later, probably. _Unless_…

Her train of thought was interrupted as two of them launched a Holy Smite, which travelled down the alley and hit the poor Dalish mage despite having Yasmin between her and the blast of energy.

Namathari heaved her ale onto the cobblestones as she crashed to her knees. She was so _stupid_, getting caught up in their banter and not anticipating their opening move. _What if Yasmin was counting on me during her distraction?_ She groaned as she heaved more bile onto the filthy ground, some of it splashing on herself, and her sort-of saviour.

“Well shit,” Yasmin mused. She turned back to the Templars, and as they got closer to her, she _felt _them and smiled. “You know, I’m not a Templar. But you really shouldn’t underestimate me either.” She made to unsheathe her sword, also borrowed from Lysette.

“You know we aren’t going to let you go easy right? You embarrassed our boss here, and we are _owed _for that,” Pimples boasted with sickening glee.

Whatever mercy Yasmin _might_ have showed by cutting them down with her sword vanished just as quickly. She shoved the unsheathed half of her sword back into her scabbard with a loud ‘clack’. “You all drank your daily dose of lyrium not three hours ago, right? That’s unfortunate,” Yasmin mused the last part to herself with a sadistic smile that burst forth from her formerly tender demeanour.

Not slowing down, Jacques’s eyebrows twitched, _why would that fucking matter?_

Yasmin grinned manically as she thrust out both hands in front of her. From the ground, Namathari could only gasp as she saw the Templars, _all five of them_, lift off the ground. “What is this?” Pimples managed as he felt his body suddenly _burn_.

“You really are unfortunate gentlemen, because I’m _not _the type of woman you want to run into while walking down a dark alley. Now shut up and _die_.” Yasmin intoned as her expression flitted into a sort of cold detachment.

The screams were cut short as blood painted either wall of the alley. Namathari saw Yasmin move her arms outstretched in front of her to her sides as if she was trying to touch either wall of the alley. Blood _erupted_ from the throat of each Templar. It burst out of their necks, and from their mouths as well. The elf saw Yasmin walk over to where the Templars crumpled to the ground and stomped hard on one of them. Namathari heard the squelching snap of bone breaking under the tall woman’s boot.

“What are you?” Namathari asked as the human woman gathered the elf into her arms.

Yasmin smiled softly, as if she hadn’t just brutally _slaughtered _five powerful adversaries. “I’m stronger than those _monsters_. And before you ask, no, I’m not a blood mage. I’m a Seeker. Now, can you direct me to where you’re staying? It wouldn’t do for your people to grieve you for too long. I need to get back to my party as well, who knows how long Lysette will last before Sera drives her mad?”

“Thank you,” Dalish replied softly. The Holy Smite really had dealt her quite a blow.

“Before you nod off there, mind telling me your name?” Yasmin asked as she walked back through the tavern, drawing the gasp of Cynthia the barkeep. Yasmin said something in Orlesian that Namathari didn’t understand, and Cynthia responded with a soft _merci_.

“I’m Namathari Lavellan, but my friends call me Dalish.”


	17. How Would You Like a Job?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the violence in the alleyway.

CHAPTER 17: Would You Like a Job?

“When do you think she’ll return?” Lysette was pacing the length of the small room she and Sera were sharing at the inn. Lysette had insisted the Herald have her own room. She even had a note handwritten by Josephine advising the Herald to do such, along with the additional funds such a luxury would cost. Cassandra had backed Lysette up deaf to Yasmin’s initial protests, so that was that.

“She’ll be back when she bloody gets back now won’t she?” Sera replied as she casually brandished the arrow that she was checking the fletching of. “Look, she said she had Seeker business or some shite, right? So, she’ll smash some heads or whatever and come back. Besides, we’ve got all her stuff here, she wouldn’t leave her fancy armour if she didn’t mean to come back for it. Or us. I get the feeling she wouldn’t just drop us like a rotten pie. Trust me, not much is worse than biting into one of them yeah?” Lysette seemed to calm slightly at the elf’s wisdom, as crass as it was.

There was a disturbance downstairs as a lone man crashed through the entrance in his haste. “Skinner, Grimm!”

“We need to save Dalish, there were half a dozen Templars, and they made me leave! They’re just down the road, and they’re gonna kill her!” A man’s voice boomed loudly

Immediately the Inquisitor’s two companions heard several sets of feet getting off their stools and charging out the door. “Cassandra, Sir Bariss, Varric, and Solas are still on an errand for Josephine. Should we get them first?” Lysette asked. She needn’t have, since Sera was already re-stringing her bow and shoving a handful of arrows into the satchel around her waist. _Apparently not._

“Well, I’m bored, and her Heraldy’ness will just have to forgive us for saving the day later yeah? Lady Seeker well have a fit if there was a fight that went down and the Herald didn’t have a calvary. Not that we’ve got horses, that’d be bloody brilliant actually, I’ll ask about that later.” Sera smirked as Lysette picked up the Inquisitor’s sword, looking at it critically. “You could probably use her shite, she’s got your armour and whatnot on right now anyway.”

Lysette nodded, and within three minutes they were out on the street following the mercenary company at a slight distance as they barged into a shite-looking tavern. Before Lysette could ram open the door after the mercenaries, Sera grabbed her arm.

“Wait a moment. I don’t hear anything. We should circle ‘round back, right? Just to be sure we don’t get in some trap.” Sera asserted.

Lysette cocked her head and nodded, “You know, you’re smarter than you generally act with all your mischief.” They quickly made their way to the alley around the back of the tavern.

“Got to be. Mischief isn’t for idiots. It’s an art.” Sera replied a little testily.

“Didn’t mean any offense…okay, maybe a little bit. But I’m glad you’re more than meets the eye. And here I thought you’d just live for driving Seeker Cassandra out of her head.”

“Oh, I’m still gonna do that. Are you having me on? I can’t wait for that shite.” Sera giggled manically as they came around the tavern and saw what laid in the alley. “Holy fucking shite,” the elf breathed; mirth _gone_.

There was blood everywhere. It was seeping into the soil, it was all over the alley walls, and some of it was even on the tavern’s backdoor. Templars in full armour, dead. Strewn around the ground like broken toys. “We need to get in there now,” Lysette said.

They opened the back door and were greeted by a peculiar sight. First of all, everything was quite calm. Facing their backs, Lysette and Sera saw Andraste’s Herald was sitting at the bar next to a blonde woman who was clearly an elf. Facing them from across the bar was a trio of equally confused mercenaries. “Thanks for coming back for me,” the blonde elf said bashfully as her friends stood still with their swords drawn. “This woman saved me. It’s alright Skinner, you can put those away.” she added a little more quietly, talking directly to the severe-looking elf who was glaring at Yasmin. While Dalish was certainly happy to be alive, the not-Templar lady ripped the blood out of those Templars and that was something she’d probably see in her nightmares. Also, she needed to find out exactly how in Mythal’s name that happened.

“Oi, Herald! What’s this about the corpses out back?” Sera called out, announcing their presence. “There’s blood everywhere.” The mercenaries all had wide eyes as Sera outed Yasmin as the Herald of Andraste. Oops.

Yasmin spun around with a raised eyebrow, “Sera? Oh, it’s you two.” Yasmin flicks the hair out of her uncovered eye’s line of sight before looking back between each group of new arrivals. “Same inn?” 

“You-You’re the Herald of Andraste?” a soft voice spoke up, and everyone looked at the bartender, Cynthia.

Luckily, Yasmin thought, hers and the Templars earlier brutish behaviour made everyone else leave the tavern. Yasmin let out an annoyed sigh. Sera had the decency to look down embarrassed at her gaffe. “Yes. That is what people are calling me. I posed as a Templar because Knight-Captain Jacques White was somebody I’d gotten intelligence on since arriving in Val Royeaux. I didn’t account for the whole business with Dalish here. I’m sorry about my part in that preamble to what happened in the alley.” Yasmin looked _ashamed_, something that didn’t escape anyone’s notice.

“You certainly played your part well,” Stitches said with a little bit of an edge.

“And if she hadn’t, this room would be watered in blood it would seem,” Lysette spoke up. She shifted slightly, the Herald’s armour was a little loose on her accounting for Yasmin’s slightly superior height.

“Why is she so pale then, if they didn’t touch her?” Skinner spoke up in a heavy regional accent marking her as an elf hailing Orlais, possibly even Val Royeaux. The Inquisition trio also noted how defensive the Orlesian elf sounded.

“Holy smite,” Yasmin replied. The mercenaries flinched. Yasmin looked around and decided to see if she couldn’t speed things along. “There isn’t a company of mercenaries working out of Orlais more diverse than Iron Bull’s Chargers. I’m guessing that’s you?”

“How the fuck did you know that?” Stitches asked cautiously.

“Because basically every other mercenary company is human. Well, except the Valo-Kas, but they’re all Tal-Vashoth.” Yasmin finished her drink and rose to her feet. “How would you like a new gig?”

“Are you sure about this, Herald?” Lysette asks.

Yasmin turned sharply to her resident former-Templar and cows her with a stern look before turning back to Dalish expectantly. “It’s funny you mention that. Our Lieutenant is enroute to Haven as we speak to ask about exactly that.”

Yasmin chuckles. “Well, as the Herald of Andraste, I’m officially offering you a job. Josephine Montilyet will handle the actual wording of the contract and pay.

“You don’t want to see us fight first?” Skinner asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Do most of your clients get a preview before they hire you?” Sera asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, no,” Dalish said, “But you’re not exactly a normal client. Our client would be ‘The Inquisition,’ not just you, sorry,” Dalish admitted with a sheepish look.

“No offense taken, Dalish. Though I was given leave to basically recruit who I wanted. I don’t see why hiring a mercenary company with the reputation yours commands as anything other than daylight robbery. I would very much like to hire you. Is your Boss here? Perhaps I could speak with him to iron out terms before they’re finalized by our Chief Diplomat,” Yasmin spoke as she took several swallows of ale, pausing between sentences and ignorant of the tentative amused looks she received from the Chargers.

“He’s due back in a day or two. He’s with the rest of our company finishing a job for some Comptess who’s personal estate is outside the city,” Stitches said. Yasmin’s eye was drawn to the tall blonde human male who hadn’t spoken a word so far. She didn’t say anything to him though. If he didn’t want to talk, that was fine with her.

Yasmin seemed to mull over her options before shrugging, “I suppose we can be counting on your arrival in haven with the fortnight?”

The four mercenaries looked between each other before Dalish spoke up and said, “I believe so, _Herald_,” Dalish grinned at Yasmin’s obvious discomfort with the title.

“Alright then! _Au revoir mes amis_,” Yasmin’s smile split her face. “Sorry for all the trouble, Cynthia. You’ve been remarkably patient with me despite the earlier unpleasantness,” Yasmin said as she laid a coin purse on the bar that made a solid ‘thunk’ belying the small size of the purse. “Oh, also this,” Yasmin dug into one of her pockets for a silver coin with a particular insignia. “The guard of Val Royeaux know the Seekers’ mark. They won’t ask you uncomfortable questions about the dead Templars out back when you show them this. They know not to interfere in Seeker business. Lord Seeker Van Reeves made sure of that,” Yasmin added the last part with a quiet sort of venom.

Before Cynthia could protest the kind gesture, Yasmin had already turned on her heel and led her people out the back door. When Yasmin, Sera, and Lysette were alone in the alley with the dead Templars. Yasmin picked up one of their fallen swords and proceeded to desecrate the corpses by maiming them post-mortem. Lysette was understandably perturbed. “Herald! What are you–,”

“Evidence innit? They didn’t die natural-like, so you’re making it seem like you just hacked them up instead of that spooky seeker shite you told us you could do,” Sera interrupted with her theory.

“Exactly right Sera,” Yasmin grunted as she stood over the final corpse, Jacques the leader, before plunging her sword through his throat, mangling his spine, and into the ground below him. “There. Let’s go round up Cassie and the others and return to Haven. I’ve missed that frozen hellhole.”


	18. Ella Appears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new arrival in Haven begins to change things.

CHAPTER 18: Ella

Leliana and Josephine were in the War Room he way things were going, Leliana was actually beginning to feel the beginnings of optimism. The way the that Commander Cullen’s Lyrium withdrawal was progressing on the other hand was really beginning to show; and the other Templars were becoming aware of it too. Not many of the Mages that had joined had seen Lyrium withdrawal. Thankfully, both Ser Cauthrien was settling into the room allocated to her. Unfortunately, they had received a raven from Kirkwall: Aveline Vallen had to turn back, they were facing an offensive effort from Prince Vael of Starkhaven and Acting Guard-Captain Donnic had requested her return. Since Ser Cauthrien had arrived, Leliana wasn’t _too _upset at their plans being unknowingly thwarted. She was not looking forward to telling the Herald of Andraste that her hometown of sorts was entering into a war that many among the Inquisition had a vested interest in. At least the Herald was expected back anytime now.

Josephine was beginning to smudge ink over the heel of her hand again. Leliana reached out and lightly kicked Josie. “What?” the Antivan looked up from her work and the Orlesian just gestured to Josie’s ink-afflicted hand. “Ugh, thank you Leliana.” She got up and exited the room, no doubt to wash her hand off. Leliana chuckled at her long-time friend.

Leliana was disappointed that Aveline would not be able to help them, and less so that Kirkwall was about to enter a war with Starkhaven. She would have to bring up the option of assassinating Prince Vael up at the next war table meeting.

“You look good, for your age,” a voice said from the entrance. Leliana smirked to herself before raising her head to meet eyes with Ser Cauthrien. She was tall, taller than Cullen, Cassandra, and Yasmin. Her signature great sword was upon her back and she looked down at the comparatively diminutive woman with a smirk. “It’s been a while, Sister Leliana. I confess myself glad that you felt the urge to reach out for me,” while there was a level of teasing in her voice, there was genuine sentiment there as well.

“Think nothing of it Ser Cauthrien, you were the obvious top candidate for the position that we want you for,” Leliana returned smoothly as she walked around the table to properly greet her former adversary.

“There was a woman out by the tents, you quartermaster I think? She nearly fainted when she saw me. Is she going to be alright?” Ser Cauthrien was looking concerned, and Leliana couldn’t help but laugh as the clasped each other’s wrists in greeting.

“Oh, that was Quartermaster Threnn. She was one of your soldiers at Ostagar, I don’t blame you for not knowing her face. Queen Anora always favoured her when she could get away with it because of Threnn’s loyalty to the former Teryn.” Ser Cauthrien winced at the casual mention of Loghain Mac Tir.

“I can’t even get halfway through a conversation with you without his name still dogging my every step,” Ser Cauthrien sighed.

“She’s even now a Loghain loyalist. I’m not surprised she was affected so by your dramatic entrance,” despite the potentially combustible topic, Leliana maintained a somewhat mirthful tone.

“You appointed a Quartermaster loyal to that man?” Ser Cauthrien asked with genuine confusion. Leliana could also detect a trace amount of anger that the man responsible for her dark turn had a staunch loyalist here.

“I can’t exactly be picky,” Leliana defends herself.

“I don’t have much interest in being lied to Sister,” Ser Cauthrien rebuked the redheaded woman.

“I wasn’t lying. Threnn is higly skilled at what she does. I understand her experience at Ostagar soured her lust for battle, but did nothing to blunt her keen intellect. She really was one of the best Fereldan candidates available to me on short notice.” Leliana’s calm explanation did little to soften Ser Cauthrien’s glare. Leliana relented, “But if you must know, Queen Anora personally asked a favour of me to take Threnn on with us. The Queen was facing political opposition at the time who would’ve had no qualms killing a Loghain loyalist to advance their plots, and Threnn was one of the loudest and most ah, visible, in Queen Anora’s court. So she asked me to take Threnn with me when I left Denerim last year. To be honest, she really doesn’t talk much about the Blight, unless she’s provoked that is.” Leliana shot the taller woman a grin.

“The Queen cares for this woman? It was because of Loghain that her rule was so contested, especially in the beginning,” Ser Cauthrien reasoned.

“Ah, but I think you underestimate the power of a daughter’s love. Logic rarely plays the role it should when the stage is populated by family or lovers. Besides, the Herald herself had a rather illuminating conversation with Threnn about her own perspective on Loghain. My own eyes have noticed Threnn in deep thought about it since the Herald’s departure to the Hinterlands last month. I think you might have an interesting conversation yourself upon her return if you choose to engage her on this topic. I think she might pleasantly surprise you.”

Ser Cauthrien looked curious at this revelation. “And her opinions on Loghain?”

“For you to find out, if you decide to take up the mantle of our Commander, Ser Ella Cauthrien,” Leliana’s smile disappeared as she reached the point of why Ser Cauthrien was here in the first place.

Ella Cauthrien laid her helm on the War Table. “I am willing to take that mantle, Sister Leliana. But are you sure you can execute this_ coup_ without bloodshed? Trust me, I know that replacing a superior officer in this manner usually ends with digging mass graves.”

“We have brought in Cullen Rutherford’s second in Command, a Knight-Captain Rylen out of Starkhaven, on our plans. He’s a good man who will support this rather abrupt change. And besides,” Leliana paused as she grimaced, “Cassandra would’ve never been on board with this plan if we were going to _kill _Cullen. We are simply removing him from the chain of command. If the Herald permits it, and there is consensus among the advisors, Cullen might even stay with the Inquisition in another capacity,” Leliana’s smirk let Ella Cauthrien know that the Sister didn’t think the Herald would permit anything of the sort.

“When is the Herald due back? I’d like to meet her before this change is cemented if possible,” Ella asked.

“Likely in the next day or two; I don’t think you ask for too much,” Leliana replied.

There was a knock at the door as Leliana finished her sentence. “Who knocks?” Leliana asked cordially.

“It’s me!” a frightfully cheerful voice with a distinct Starkhaven lilt replied.

Leliana raised her eyebrows in a surprised expression foreign to Cauthrien’s experience of the Bard. “Well, Ella,” Leliana smiled genuinely for the first time that conversation. “It seems like you get to meet our Herald today after all.”

Ser Cauthrien immediately gathered her helm in her hands and turned to face the door; some habits of courtly decorum just didn’t wear off with time. The door opened to reveal a tall woman with caramel skin and ebony hair. She wasn’t as tall as Ser Cauthrien, but certainly taller than most. There was a spear and sword both resting at different angles on her back, a dark red headband covering her upper forehead, and a burnt-crimson long coat that flapped against her knees with the wind coming in from the open door at the opposite end of the chantry. Ser Cauthrien had to admit that the smiling woman cut quite the figure.


	19. Just Following Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald and her council decide what to do with Cullen.

CHAPTER 19: Demotion

“You’re Ser Cauthrien right?” the Herald asked with a cocky grin. “Leliana’s told me things about you that make me very eager to get to know you.”

Ser Ella Cauthrien raised her eyebrows at the younger woman’s forwardness. “It’s an honor to meet you as well, Herald.”

Yasmin shot an annoyed look at Leliana. “I blame you for that title.”

“Blame Cassandra, she’s the one who said it first,” Leliana shot back with a shrug while Cauthrien looked on with amusement.

“You’re the one who spread it, and don’t try pinning this on Josephine. I’ve already gotten her to call me by my name.”

“What _is _your name?” Ser Cauthrien spoke up with the startling question.

“You don’t?–,” Yasmin turned to Leliana again. “You brought her here without telling her my _name_? How did that work out?”

“Easily,” Leliana said as calm as you like as she looked truly amused now.

Ser Cauthrien pointedly coughed. “My name is Yasmin. And I’m a Seeker of Truth, as well as Andraste’s Herald, if you believe the propaganda.”

“It’s not _just _propaganda Yasmin. What you’ve managed to do in just a short time _is _truly miraculous on a level not seen since Andraste. And I can say that as a party member that helped end the Fifth Blight in one year, _and _the Left Hand of the Divine. I _know _what I’m talking about,” Leliana pointed out fervently.

Yasmin regarded her for a moment with serious eyes. She had forgotten that Leliana was indeed a fanatic, if a lapsed one at the moment. Well, it seemed her belief never wavered, just whether or not she considered the Maker an arsehole or not at any given moment.

Yasmin sighed, “We don’t _know_ what I am, or how _this _happened.”

“I believe,” Ser Cauthrien said quietly.

Yasmin looked at the taller woman with a betrayed expression while Leliana didn’t even bother to hide her smirk. “Well, now that’s settled, we should summon Josephine, Cassandra, and Cullen no?”

“You’re the replacement then?” Yasmin asked with a grin.

“If this council agrees, then yes,” Ser Cauthrien replied.

“Leliana, have you identified the individuals that I asked you to before I took my party to Val Royeaux?” Yasmin asked with a darkly calm voice that sent chills down Cauthrien’s spine.

“I’ve the guilty parties languishing in the dungeon. I wanted you to return before they receive their punishments,” Leliana answered with an equally dark calmness to her voice. Leliana handed the Herald a small scroll, names of the victims, survivors, which Yasmin unravelled without delay. “There aren’t as many names here that I feared. I’m assuming there are more that you couldn’t discover?”

Leliana hesitated before nodding. “There always will be, Yasmin. I’m sorry, but this was the best I could do.”

Yasmin clapped Leliana on the shoulder, “I’m not chastising you Sister. You’ve done good work, and once this business with Cullen is settled, I’ll visit the prisoners.”

“Am I to have a voice in this? What is the list of names you’ve handed the Herald?” Ella asked.

“Women and men who were sexually violated under Cullen’s command.” Leliana paused to reflect on her phrasing. “Not _on _his command, mind you. Were that the case, Rutherford would be dead now. And the men in the dungeons are the guilty parties,” Leliana replied succinctly.

Ser Ella Cauthrien’s fist tightened, causing the leather in her gloves to audible strain. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Ella said quietly; fury just beneath the surface.

“I may be able to get more names from the _animals_ in the dungeon,” Yasmin ventured.

“Oh?” Leliana asked with an eyebrow raised. “You think my methods insufficient?” Her words lacked a malicious edge to them, it was simply an honest question.

“Seeker powers,” Yasmin replied with a dark look. The Herald didn’t feel the need to explain to Leliana the persona trauma to Yasmin of searching the memories of monsters. Perhaps she would, if things got more than she could handle. But Empathy was certainly a stout ally in that regard. Leliana nodded at Yasmin, seeming to understand a little of what Yasmin meant.

Josephine and Cassandra entered the war room. Cassandra was decked out in her standard armour, while Josephine’s dress and slacks were just as immaculate as usual. “So, how are we going to do this?” Josephine asked.

“Cullen’s a direct man. We should vote, and then tell him,” Cassandra suggested.

“Well, that sounds sufficient. So, all in favour of dismissing him from his command raise their hand,” Josephine intoned professionally.

Leliana and Yasmin’s hands rose steadily and surely. Josephine nodded to herself and raised her hand too. The surprise was that Cassandra raised a tentative hand as well. “Well, that’s done. And for _formalities_,” Josephine emphasised, “Hands on whether Ser Ella Cauthrien succeeds Former Knight-Captain Rutherford as Commander of the Second Inquisition?”

All hands rose once again. “Welcome to the Inquisition Ser Cauthrien,” Leliana said with a small grin.

“I’m honoured, Sister Leliana,” Ella replied.

“We’ve known each other for ten years, call me Leliana,” the Left Hand said with a grin.

“Do call me Yasmin. Enough people call me ‘Herald of Andraste’ as it is,” Yasmin spoke up as well with a slightly childish look on her face.

“Very well…Yasmin,” Ella Cauthrien visibly struggled not to call Yasmin by her title, which earned the knight a smile.

“The horrors committed uninterrogated on his watch aside, how will we make sure this transition runs smoothly? I admit, I have no great love for Templars,” Ella said with a grimace.

“That’s being handled mostly by the man who will be your second in command, Ser Rylen. He’s also a Templar, former Templar, but of a more…liberal mindset,” Cassandra replied with a small shrug at the last part.

“Not many of them around,” Ella pointed out.

“They’re a rare breed, true. But I’ve always found them precious,” Yasmin said with a genuine smile. “I took Ser Rylen aside and vetted him personally upon my return under the guise of talking about Starkhaven’s recent political clusterfuck. He’s clean.”

“Is there a reason Ser Rylen isn’t standing where I am?” Ella asked. “Not that I want to be seen as complaining. But I am curious.”

Josephine answered that one, “It was felt by some of us…” Yasmin coughed, “_All _of us, that a woman would be best for the job, Yasmin and Leliana in particular. But more than that, Ser Rylen’s never been in command of so many men and women. Cullen was never officially promoted, but he _was _the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall after Mad Meredith was ousted. You commanded Loghain Mac Tir’s armies to victory against the Darkspawn.”

Ella looked like she wanted to disagree with Josie, but Leliana made a ‘wait’ motion and Ella swallowed her objection. “More than that, Leliana vouched for you. Her word means a great deal to the people at this table, and even the Inquisition as a whole. Other than the odd power-hungry cleric, there aren’t many who would refute such a recommendation from the Divine’s Left Hand. And the Chantry has already made their disgust with our endeavour quite clear.”

“Well, that’s out of the way. Do we think Cullen should remain a part of the Inquisition? And if so, what position should he be allowed,” Yasmin asked.

“My vote is no,” Leliana said unashamedly. Cassandra almost _hissed _at her.

“I don’t see the harm in demoting him and keeping him around. He’s loyal. That kind loyalty isn’t easy to find. He’s not an evil man, and may earn a measure of redemption no? Especially when he recognizes his past mistakes in Kirkwall and is actively seeking to become a better man. A cynic would say that he’d be easily manipulated that way, and we’d be foolish to squander loyalty like that” Josephine ventured, eloquent as always. Yasmin’s eyebrow twitched at Josephine’ reasoning. Perhaps Josephine wasn’t as clawless as she presented herself.

Ser Cauthrien looked between the other women and could already predict what the two Seekers would say. Cassandra’s knuckles were white and Yasmin was glaring at the green Mark on her hand.

“I would prefer he remain a part of the Inquisition. It is as Josephine says, we’d be foolish to relinquish such a loyal soldier. I have a feeling we’ll need everyone we can get,” Cassandra said, ignoring Yasmin’s hostile look.

“I don’t want him anywhere near a command position. He’s already proven he either can’t or won’t handle rapists under his command. Also, from the memories I’ve seen from Mages out of Kirkwall, Champion Hawke’s sister among them, I don’t find him worthy of command here. If I arrived in Kirkwall before the fall, I may have stripped him of rank personally. What is more, I intend to accept Grand Enchanter Fiona’s invitation to approach the Mage Rebellion’s Headquarters in Redcliffe as soon as convenient.” Yasmin briefly paused to look around as she announced her future plans. Cassandra was displeased.

Yasmin decided to continue regardless of her mentor’s displeasure, “Having such a symbol of the tyranny of the Kirkwall’s broken Circle, would only damage potential negotiations. He was in Meredith’s inner Circle and only broke from her once Hawke and her allies truly stood against the Annulment. I apologize. I’ve said too much already, my answer is exile him or have Leliana make use of him far away from here,” Yasmin said a hard look in her eye. Cassandra met her glare head on.

“Is your view so unchangeable? He has shown he can be a great man who rises to the occasion. Or were you too blinded by power in the aftermath of the Breach? Are you so blinded by your own biases that you seek to humiliate the man further? Without Cullen, we wouldn’t _have _an Inquisition,” Cassandra said with a glare.

“Blinded by power? At least choose accurate words to hurl at me Cassie,” Yasmin sneered. “Being able to lead troops in battle is something Cullen excels at, I’ve seen it. You’re right, Cassie. But I don’t want his _chance for redemption _to come at unnecessary cost to the Inquisition. Have you talked to the women and men whose reports of assault he ignored? Perhaps you should. It may give you an inside look at how he conducts himself as a leader without a sword in hand. Perhaps then you can examine my ‘bias’ for yourself. Anthony’s death was at the hands of evil men. How long are you going to see them in every mage you meet?” Yasmin replied, unmoved. Cassandra looked like she wanted to vault over the table and throttle the Herald. Josephine read the room instantly and surreptitiously placed her foot gently but firmly atop Cassandra’s in such a way that any violent movement would send Josephine toppling to the floor. Cassandra flinched and looked away from Yasmin. Leliana was watching this spat as though she hadn’t been entertained in days…which was entirely possible.

There was a long silence before Josephine spoke. “Ser Cauthrien, it would seem we’re deadlocked. The deciding vote is yours.”

Ser Ella Cauthrien looked nearly ill at being forced to make such a divisive decision that would ripple even years in the future. History was being made here, and Ella felt it just as she had when she heeded Loghain’s order to pull the troops back and leave Ostagar and its defenders to burn.

Everyone was looking at her. Yasmin and Cassandra had almost hilariously matching looks of intensity; each representing diametrically opposed viewpoints. Part of Ella was certain the Herald must have picked up the look _from _Cassandra during her training as a child. Leliana’s look was disturbingly neutral; typical Bard fare, really. Josephine was giving her a light and damn near _encouraging _smile, which didn’t reassure Ser Cauthrien at all. She felt that being the cause of Josephine _losing _that smile might be just as bad as pissing off any of the more martially skilled women at the table.

Ella breathed deeply as she weighed the pros and cons. Both sides had made good points. But Ella wasn’t a fool; she knew a decision like this had to be made the day she received Josephine’s letter with the Inquisition’s insignia. And so she had an answer prepared. Now, she was quietly wondering how long it was before somebody murdered her for this choice she was about to make.

Ella took her gloves off and put them on the table. She then presided to rub her face like she was trying to wash away the angst of the moment. It didn’t work. “Fuck. Alright, I agree with Yasmin in that while Cullen Rutherford is an exceptional battlefield commander, he has shown to be lacking in other areas. No superior officer can stop their men from making monstrous decisions as Cullen’s obviously have. But I’m troubled that when presented with the issue, he ran from it.”

“Fantastic,” Yasmin grinned at Cassandra.

“I’m not done, Yasmin,” Ella said as the grin was verbally struck from the Herald’s face. “At Ostagar, _I am the one _who ordered the retreat that sentenced the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and my king to death. Loghain was my Teryn. On that day, he was my superior officer, my Commander; but I could have ignored him. I could have bellowed ‘Forward!’ and my men would have followed me down that hill and into the thick of the Darkspawn Horde. They were _my men; _loyal to me first.”

Ella stopped for a moment to take advantage of Josephine’s goblet which still had wine in it. Ella downed it in three gulps that echoed around the silent chamber. She took a deep breath after she shook her head from drinking too much alcohol at once. “But I did not do that. I knew the order to retreat was wrong. I _knew _it in my _bones_. Later, when my Teryn appointed Arl Howe, and then invited Tevinter Slavers into the Alienage to butcher and enslave who they liked; I did not strike him down then either. When I was ordered to apprehend the final Grey Wardens in Ferelden, I did that too. I fought and defeated the elven _teenager _who had just scene her home ravaged by slavers. I had her thrown in a cell. It’s something I still have nightmares about,” she said as she glanced at Leliana.

“Ella,” Leliana started softly, but Ella held up a hand to cut off her former enemy.

“When I was confronted a second time by Kallian Tabris and her party, including our very own Sister Leliana, I knew it was over. I was outnumbered. At some point I was disarmed, and I remember Kallian looking down at me. I couldn’t even meet her eyes. I didn’t deserve to. But she spared my life. The swamp witch Morrigan was vocal about her descent regarding Kallian’s decision there. But the elven girl who barely stood up to my shoulder looked down at me on the floor and saw my regret. She allowed me to take up arms once more, against the Darkspawn. And we won the day.” Ella took a long pause while she tried to process that she had basically spilled her biggest regrets in front of strangers, basically.

“Ser Cauthrien, you didn’t have to,” Josephine tried to calm the towering woman.

“I’m alright,” Ella said with a humorless chuckle. “My _point _is that there was a _moment _in time when the fate of Thedas was in my hands, and I failed everything I stood for. And from then on, every subsequent unforgivable decision I made was in the service of ensuring that _first _horrible choice was worthwhile, because if it wasn’t? _What have I done?_” Even the irate Herald Yasmin looked humbled by Ella Cauthrien’s speech.

Ella placed both her hands flat on the table. Leliana noted with a flicker of a grin that Ella’s left hand covered the blighted areas of Ferelden. It was in small moments like these that reassured Leliana that her faith wasn’t for nothing.

Ella looked up and made eye contact with each of the other women who had already voted as she delivered her verdict. “I cannot look at Cullen Rutherford’s mistakes and not see myself. I cannot stand here among you and lie to you. Cullen Rutherford’s worst crimes are still miles better than the horror I allowed to happen on _multiple, separate _occasions. Even still, I believe that I am better for this endeavor than he is because I learned from my past errors. The Ella Cauthrien, Knight of the Kingdom of Ferelden standing before you would cut down the scared little girl who was too afraid to disobey evil orders.”

Ella slowly put her gloves back on as she looked at Yasmin alone now and declared, “Cullen may not be fit for command, but I would not send a man seeking redemption away while I myself remain to usurp him. Cullen Rutherford will no longer be a part of the Chain of Command, but he will remain with this Inquisition if he wishes to.”


	20. Plucking Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin crosses another line. And Leliana's past catches up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some info from the books; so it might seem out of nowhere.

CHAPTER: Plucking Feathers

Liliana and Yasmin were under Leliana’s tent in front of the chantry discussing the shift in command structure. “So, Cullen took that better than I thought he would,” Yasmin muttered to Leliana as they left the war room. It had been almost ten hours since their vote that morning. Cullen had been called in and informed of his demotion. “I was expecting a fight…not…” Yasmin looked troubled.

“Relief?” Leliana supplied. “I knew he was suffering. I knew he’d _been _suffering since the Blight. But to abstain entirely from Lyrium is something I didn’t think he’d be able to keep up. I believe that Ser Cauthrien explained it to him best. He will remain as her personal advisor. It’s not a bad post I suppose, and his former men will still see him around, supporting Ella. This could have been far messier a transition.”

“Yes,” Yasmin still looked troubled.

“Yasmin? Are you alright?” Leliana asked.

“While I am absolute in my opinion appointing Ella was the right choice, I fear I may have misjudged Cullen.” Yasmin shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think I was wrong in the most direct sense. He should _not _have been put in command. But perhaps my interactions with him were on bad days for him.”

“Let it never be said the man has no redeeming qualities. Even _I _am envious of his hair,” Leliana giggled. Yasmin chuckled along, relieving some of her stress. Leliana continued in a slightly more serious tone, “But I’ve also seen the man at his worst and am reminded why removing him from command was necessary. I find him arrogant, and racist towards elves in a way he’d honestly deny. It’s in the little things, but he’d never turn an elf away from the Inquisition that’s for sure. Solas is proof enough of that.”

Leliana continued, “His stance on mages is far more damning, but nothing unsurprising from a Templar. He did after all attempt to persuade my Kallian to butcher the mages in Kinloch Hold down to the last child. He has a kind of courage in battle that would allow him to fight to the death, a courage that I fear we’ll need more of. When he gives his loyalty it’s absolute.

Leliana ran a gloved hand through her hair before she resumed, “I have seen very few examples of absolute evil, and Cullen could frankly have been far worse a man than he is. But he just isn’t the best available option anymore. When this started, perhaps. It’s why I didn’t poison him once Cassandra had decided to bring him with us when we left the hell that had become Kirkwall. But with Ella at the Helm of our army, things have certainly changed for the better. Unless we are all somehow horribly wrong about her.”

Yasmin nodded and said with a raised eyebrow, “So if I come across a better spymaster, you’d expect me to replace you?”

“Well,” Leliana said with a grin, “If such a person _exists_, then I’ll step down. But I wish you luck on that search. I think Empress Celene’s former elven paramour Briala may be the best replacement if I fall. But you’d need to guarantee her significant positive changes for elves across Orlais, at the very least.” Suddenly Leliana’s humorous demeanour got very dark. The Bard’s expression dropped, and Yasmin could see as plain as day that the redhead was feeling a crushing amount of _guilt_. _Why?_

“Leliana, are you alright?” Yasmin asked with a small grin. Leliana tried to shake herself out of it but Yasmin lightly tapped Leliana’s cheek, preventing her from leaving this conversation. “You’re usually flawless with hiding your emotions. What is different about Briala specifically?”

“It’s a long story, and it’s a complicated one,” Leliana tried to deflect. Yasmin’s eyes glowed for a moment, and Leliana realised that their skin was touching. _Oh no. _Leliana remembered too late about Yasmin’s odd empathic powers; about her tendency to see and retain the memories of others. Leliana flinched away at how invasive Yasmin was with how she used her powers on even _friends_.

Yasmin recoiled and clutched the table as she gasped for breath. “The Purge of the Val Royeaux Alienage was on Justinia’s order?” Yasmin’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “And _you. _You were her messenger to the Empress Celene to coerce her into sending in her soldiers.” Yasmin’s wide eyes met Leliana’s.

There was no mistaking the guilt in Leliana’s eyes now. And with a sickening feeling, Yasmin knew what had to happen now. What she had to do. What Empathy inside her _compelled _her to do. But just as she reached out again to _show _Leliana the horrors of Val Royeaux’s most recent Alienage Purge, one of her agents walked up to the tent. His boots clacking on the pebbles loudly enough in advance for Yasmin to retract the hand reaching for Leliana’s face. “Sister Nightingale, a word?” he said before Yasmin turned around and revealed herself. “Herald! Forgive me for interrupting.”

Yasmin gave Leliana a withering glare before turning a warmer expression to the young man. “Not at all. I was just leaving,” she turned to Leliana, “Do Josephine and Cassandra know?” Leliana silently thanked Andraste for Yasmin refraining from venting their dirty laundry to the whole of Haven.

“No and yes,” the spymaster replied curtly.

Yasmin smirked, “Tell our dear ambassador. I’ll take my cues from her on this matter. Perhaps some time and distance will cool my head. Until later then, Sister.” With that, Yasmin forced herself to leave Leliana before the compulsion to force the memories of tragedy Leliana was partly responsible for became too strong to resist. Or rather, she tried to. Not five paces away from the tent she heard the conversation taking place between Leliana and her agent.

“He was one of my best agents…you know what to do, make it painless if you can,” the Spymaster said reluctantly.

“Do we have a traitor in our midst?” Yasmin asked as she found herself back in the tent.

“It would seem we do,” Leliana replied, though she was _very _careful of the distance she maintained from Yasmin. “Do you disagree with my course of action?”

Yasmin considered, “Wouldn’t it be more advantageous to take the man alive and learn his secrets? Why he betrayed you, and who he’s working for now?”

“And allow him the time to compromise other agents? I think not,” Leliana replied almost haughtily.

Yasmin shrugged. She didn’t particularly care one way or another. The man would surely meet his death. “Wouldn’t you want to sink you own knife into him instead?” Yasmin said with a mirthless grin.

Leliana paused to consider the Herald. She wasn’t _exactly _sure what the woman was after in this situation. To her frustration, her heart was beating rather fast due to their interaction a few minutes ago that was decidedly threatening.

Though it offered a chance for the Nightingale to see what Yasmin was like as an abomination. The rogue Seeker seemed not a slave. But she was certainly obsessed or compelled with _forcing _people to empathize with their victims when Yasmin _deemed_ _them_ to have done something potentially irredeemable. Perhaps most importantly, Yasmin didn’t seem to differentiate between friend and foe when she decided to employ this unnerving and traumatizing ability of hers. At this conclusion, Leliana felt shivers on the nape of her neck.

Leliana was relieved, and more than a little surprised that Yasmin had reached a compromise, or as much of one as she could allow herself to. Josephine _would not _be happy with her, even if she understood the political situation that led Justinia to pressure Empress Celene into such a brutal act. 

The messenger, one of Charter’s men, was standing there with his eyes flitting between his boss and his prophet. Yasmin noticed this while Leliana was distracted and shot the nervous man what she hoped was a disarmingly reassuring grin. She was in the middle of a crisis of conscience regarding Leliana at the moment, so she hoped her gesture of goodwill to the Bard’s agent wasn’t off-putting. It mostly worked.

Leliana thought about her dilemma with her traitorous agent for a few seconds where silence reigned. Her mind was a tempest; a war between her reflex for vengeance and her kinder soul preaching mercy. Perhaps she could just kill him _later? _That made sense as a compromise to her. Leliana looked her agent in the eye and said, “I want him alive. Make it so.”

“It will be done Sister Nightingale,” he saluted. He then turned and saluted the Herald before promptly speeding off to follow his mistress’ orders. He thanked Andraste he was free from the dangerous tension in that tent. It had set his teeth on edge, and it was _far _above his pay grade to make any sort of direct inquiry about. Perhaps Charter would know what was going on between the Herald and the Nightingale.

After Leliana’s agent left the tent, there was a tense silence between the two women. Yasmin was seemingly taking the Purge of the Val Royeaux Alienage almost personally, and then it hit her. Leliana viciously chastised herself internally for disremembering Yasmin’s _elven _heritage. Not just that she was half elf, but that she had _grown up _with exclusively elves during her most formative years. No wonder the tall, dark woman was damn near trembling with rage.

The Nightingale looked at the Seeker and tried to pick out her elven features, if any were present in the towering woman. Yasmin’s ears were round, smaller than normal actually. Her eyes were _odd_, heterochromatic, but that wasn’t to do with her elven heritage, just her status as an _abomination. _At least that’s what Leliana thought. The Seeker’s overall proportions though were too…lithe for a full human. It was very subtle, and if the Herald hadn’t brought up her parentage, Leliana wouldn’t have caught it. Her proportions were _mostly _elf-like with her curves and elongated arms. Her dreadful strength and daunting height put most doubts about her being anything but human to bed. But to a knowing eye that was actively looking for evidence of the woman being a halfling, the evidence was there.

Leliana chided herself for thinking in purely physical terms. The Herald was _raised _Dalish in her most formative years. So, the horrific purging of the Val Royeaux alienage would instinctually invoke a level of horror and grief from the woman. The Herald of Andraste was half elf, and thus she felt her people’s suffering. And as Leliana looked back up into those mismatched vibrant eyes, she knew what she had to do to even have a _chance _at regaining whatever trust and goodwill she had established with Yasmin. The Left Hand of the Divine almost retched at the instinctual _terror _coiling in her abdomen once she had come to her decision to _submit herself_ to Yasmin’s ghastly _gift_ of empathy.

Leliana’s breathing hitched, but she held her composure. She knew suffering. _Intimately. _She could bear the atrocity she helped order; she knew she could. She could not allow the inner circle to fracture so soon after being repaired by Ella Cauthrien’s appointment. So, she _had _to bear it. Leliana let out a long breath before meeting Yasmin’s questioning eyes, so much colder than they had been when Yasmin walked up to her.

“Follow me,” she said curtly as she walked around the Chantry into the woods. Yasmin followed her wordlessly as the Nightingale led them to a clearing a solid ten minutes away from Haven proper. They would not be overheard or disturbed here. Leliana let out a shaky breath as she turned around to face her reckoning.

Leliana extended a trembling left hand, but her eyes were clear. “Show me, Yasmin. I’m ready.” Snow had begun to fall. Light flecks of pale ice began to coat her hood and splashing across Yasmin’s mane of dusky hair like ethereal freckles. The subtle hungry glow in her mismatched eyes certainly enhanced the ethereal look in Leliana’s opinion. To the Bard, Yasmin’s sheer presence in that moment was serene. As serene as the black widow before she strikes.

While surprised, Yasmin reached forth and clasped Leliana’s hand in both of her own. “So be it.”

In a rush of _power_, memories from the various elven victims of the Purge rushed through Leliana’s mind like the flood.

Leliana started babbling as tears coursed down her face.

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No. I didn’t want this. Andraste…Andraste forgive me…. please.”

Yasmin’s eyes dimmed back to normal as she let one final memory through their bond as the compulsion to make Leliana _feel _the horror she had been partially responsible for vanished.

Leliana screamed softly and collapsed boneless into Yasmin’s swift arms; catching the Nightingale before she hit the cold snowy ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Purge of the Alienage is mentioned during the mission at Halamshiral, and the novel explains how Empress Celene was pressured into it by the Divine who dies at the beginning of Inquisition. Justinia sent Leliana to pressure Celene into doing it, 'for the sake of stability in orlais'. Genocide isn't the answer, and that the most 'liberal' of the Divines was willing to take such a step was very revealing.   
So if that was confusing, I apologize.


	21. A Quiet Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time has passed, and Josie and Lelliana discuss what happened with Yasmin.

CHAPTER

Leliana was sat opposite the Ambassador. They were in Josephine’s room, alone. And Josephine was ready to dash her inkwell and paperwork to the floor in her wrath at the woman who caused Leliana such hurt as this: their Prophet.

But Josephine’s expensive Orlesian education had been drilled _deep _into her. So, she daintily took another sip of her imported Rivaini tea instead.

Josephine knew that the Herald Yasmin and Sister Leliana had returned from their _talk _in the woods and something was wrong with her dearest friend. That was over a fortnight past. The day after her _talk _with Leliana, Yasmin had immediately left with Lysette, Solas, and Sera. She had rolled a die between Cassandra, Lysette, and Varric, the dwarf and Seeker both losing, and set off to investigate Charter’s little birds’ reports of Tevinter Imperium presence in the Hinterlands. There hadn’t been a report from them since last week, but it seemed there was something rotten in the city of Redcliffe. They had met a Tevinter Mage named Dorian, and the discovery of a militant Tevinter cult called the _Venatori_. Cassandra had scoffed at that information; there was only so much danger even a group of mages posed when faced with a woman of Yasmin’s unique anti-mage powers. What worried Josephine, and indeed Cauthrien as well was the observation that there seemed to be a distortion of the timeline via experimental magics this Magister Alexius had employed to enslave the Mage Rebellion.

The Orlesian Bard had not slept much since then. Oh, Leliana covered it up brilliantly. If Josephine hadn’t woken Leliana from multiple nightmares over the years, she’d have never recognized the tight expression of repressed terror standing out like a beacon to her. After a few days of watching her closest friend go through the motions, Josie had decided to cut to the chase.

It wasn’t the new intel that bothered the Bard, or at least that’s what Josie thought. She had noticed her red-headed friend tense and agitated ever since walking back to the Chantry with Yasmin all those weeks ago. The Antivan Diplomat decided it was time to stop pussyfooting around the issue. “Leli? What happened between you and Yasmin?”

Leliana sipped her tea in ponderance before delicately saying, “Nothing I didn’t deserve.” Josie looked for a moment like she’d fetch the knives she had locked away with her sentimental items from home before Leliana raised a placating hand with a ghost of a grin. “She showed me something. Something I’ve been trying not to think about, something that was partially my own doing as part of my duties of the Left Hand. But I did it. Justinia’s _orders_,” Leliana let out a harsh breath.

Josie looked at the usually unshakable former Orlesian Bard and said, “Forgive me for being _crass_, but I was of the understanding that you were accustomed to killing well before you did so on Most Holy’s orders.”

Leliana nodded. “True. But not like this. I was not the one to wield the blade. I wasn’t even the woman who ordered the massacre. But I was Her voice, and stability had to be restored, whatever cost.” Leliana said the last bit with a bitterly sarcastic lilt to her voice.

It was at this point that Josephine realised there was much more going on than she had originally suspected. The Antivan rose and fetched a small flask of her father had gifted her for her twenty-fifth birthday. “I think you and I could use some spiced brandy for this, am I wrong?”

Leliana’s lip quirked in a pale imitation of a grin, and said, “You are not wrong.”

Josephine poured them each a liberal amount before sealing the flask again and returning it to its perch resting against her copy of the _Chant of Light._ “Something horrible happened on Justinia’s orders. And you were the messenger to provoke another powerful woman into action? Am I following?”

Leliana nodded. She looked up and met Josie’s eyes. Josie nearly gasped at the sight of tears forming there. “This is much worse than What I’m imagining isn’t it?” Josie asked softly.

Leliana closed her eyes and just decided to rip the stitches out; “Justina ordered me to coerce Empress Celene into Purging the Val Royeaux Alienage.”

Josephine nearly dropped her class, but luckily it was only centimeters above the table. She rose to her feet and began pacing like mad. Her mind was clearly working over this new information at a rate that only she could do; analyzing all different angles of Leliana’s crime. Leliana watched her with hopeless eyes. Just when she looked like she was about to slow down and sit down when she pulled up and turned to Leliana with a horrified look on her face. “Does Kallian know?”

Leliana’s eyes widened but nodded morosely. “Yes. As you can imagine, that wasn’t the most loving conversation I’ve ever had. She let me live though, so…” Leliana trailed off. “She went to the Divine personally, after I told her. Demanded an explanation. She would have brutalized and slaughtered Empress Celene if Briala hadn’t my love to show her mercy.”

The manner in which the Bard was speaking really just accentuated how heartbroken Leliana was about the whole affair. “…. Leliana,” Josephine whispered as she reached out to put a hand on Leliana’s cheek reassuringly; but Leliana’s eyes flared and she half-flinched back, just out of reach. Josie retracted her hand immediately, a look of devastation on her face.

“Kallian forgave me. One of the things becoming the Warden Commander forced upon her was the necessity to see consequences beyond what our own eyes can see. If the Elves of Orlais rose up, Celene’s power would be fragmented, which would’ve led to Gaspard seizing her throne and more than likely exterminating _all _the elves he could. His views regarding elves isn’t something he even bothers to hide,” Leliana said with disgust.

“So yes. Eventually, my love Kallian forgave me. And then she left to pursue what we hope is the final lead to curing the Calling. But then the Wardens vanished without a trace. I asked the Herald to locate one my agents have reported is training farmers in the Hinterlands, though she’ll have to deal with whatever the hell is going down in Redcliffe first,” Lilianna continued.

“You’re rambling,” Josephine said with a small smile. But then she schooled her expression. “Charter and Scout Pellane have reported Tevinter activity in the Hinterlands. Do you think the Magisterium is looking to oppose the Inquisition?”

Leliana sighed and said, “Not the Magisterium. But as we saw during the Blight in Denerim, and later during the Troubles in Kirkwall, the Imperium’s slavers and opportunist magisters don’t hesitate to prey on the disasters that happen south of their border. Honestly, the only reason there hasn’t been a proper invasion is because they fear the hammer that is the Orlesian military. And rightly so.”

“Which is why Most Holy ordered the Purge, no? To stave off suggestions of a potential Tevinter Invasion?” Josephine said quietly.

“Yes.” Leliana admitted as if it caused her physical pain. “But that’s no excuse for what I did Josie! Not for what I wrought. The _things _she showed me, that she made me _experience_. It was so _horrible_. It was as bad as the purge in Denerim during the Blight,” Leliana had tears in her eyes. And if the hand subtly resting on her abdomen, Josie believed her Orlesian friend was nauseated by what she was ‘remembering’ of the Purge.

Josie didn’t know what to say, for the first time in a while to make her friend feel better. She didn’t think that her words _even could _make Leliana feel better, the right words or no. There was a knock on the door. Leliana hastily wiped away the moisture in her eyes, and her expression once more defaulted to her perfect neutral Bard-trained expression.

“Yes?” Josephine called out cordially.

The door opened and Cassandra Pentaghast rushed in looking distraught. “What is the matter, Cassandra?” Leliana spoke up with nary a tremor in her voice.

Cassandra seemed to gather herself a moment before she finally found her voice, “Something horrible has befallen the Herald’s Party in Redcliffe!”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment! Don't worry about commenting if you don't speak english, I can use google translate. So please leave your thoughts!


End file.
